


Of Angels and Angles

by Sarah K (tears_of_nienna)



Category: The Professionals
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Science Fiction, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-08
Updated: 2010-09-08
Packaged: 2017-10-11 14:44:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/113554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tears_of_nienna/pseuds/Sarah%20K
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bodie hires a mechanic to keep his ship in one piece and gets more than he expected. After a few weeks, the Capri is running better than ever, but it won't do them any good if they're not alive to fly it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Angels and Angles

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Professionals Big Bang](http://community.livejournal.com/ci5_boxoftricks) on LiveJournal.
> 
> Cover art by sc_fossil can be found [here](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v220/BurningTyger/OfAngelsAndAnglesBannersc_fossil.png).  
> Vid by sc_fossil can be downloaded [here](http://www.sendspace.com/file/kx6y67) or streamed [here](http://vidders.net/video/of-angels-and-angles-by-sarahk).
> 
> This story started out as a dream: _That was weird--Doyle had wings. I gotta write this down, man._ It slowly morphed from crack-fic to something with a real plot, but it never would have made it there without help from certain awesome people.
> 
> I can't thank **sc_fossil** enough for her fantastic artwork. When I clicked on that vid and heard the opening chord of the music, I was just about delirious with glee. Making a vid for such a crazy AU couldn't have been easy, but she did a fantastic job.
> 
> Thanks to **squeeful** for cheerleading, hand-holding, and good advice.
> 
> And thank you to the mods of the Pros BB, **przed** and **callistosh65**. Thanks so much for putting this together for us!

Bodie might have cast a furtive look at the backside of the man lounging in the shadows beside the Capri, but he didn't pause on his way up the ramp into his ship. "Sorry, I'm not taking on passengers," he said over his shoulder.

"Not looking for passage. Looking for work."

Bodie turned and sized up the stranger. Curly hair, busted cheekbone, boots and ragged jeans. Thin and not too tall, narrow in the hips--Bodie doubted he could do half the work it took to keep the transport in the air. Maybe he had misunderstood. "What kind of work?" he asked, matching the words with another slow sweep of his eyes up and down the stranger's body.

He didn't balk at Bodie's scrutiny. "Mechanical, mostly, but I'm a fair pilot and translator."

"How about fighting?"

"I'm not much use in a weapons turret, but hand-to-hand I can hold my own."

Bodie raised an eyebrow. "Sure you can."

The stranger shrugged, a sinuous rippling motion that seemed to travel all the way down his spine. "I'm stronger than I look."

Bodie shifted his pack on his shoulder and crossed his arms across his chest. "What makes you think I'm looking for help?"

Another slow shrug. "If that landing this morning wasn't a case of pilot error, then your thrusters are out of tune. If you don't do something about them, you might get two, three more landings before they fail entirely and send you skidding across a spaceport on your belly."

"You think so?"

"I do. Unless it was pilot error, in which case you need more help than I can give you, and I'm wasting my time here." He turned away.

Bodie let him take three steps and watched the line of his shoulders drop just slightly. "Not so fast, sunshine," he said, and the stranger turned. "What do you know about Capris?"

"Enough. My brother and I fixed up an older model, took it planet-hopping a few times."

"And you're still alive to tell the tale."

He smiled faintly. "_I'm_ still alive, yeah." The emphasis was subtle enough that it might mean nothing at all, and Bodie didn't comment on it.

"So you say you can fix the thrusters. Why should I take you with me, when you could just work on them here in the port before I go?"

"You weren't walking like a man with a lot of time to waste. You want to get off this planet as fast as possible. So do I. And it might give me an incentive to make sure I do a good job. If I'm on board, I'll have something of a vested interest in keeping the thrusters in tune, won't I?"

"And if anything goes wrong, you'll be well-placed to fix it before we turn the local spaceport into a very large fireball."

"Also true."

Bodie sighed. "Who the hell _are_ you?"

"Ray Doyle."

"I'm Bodie. Get your things. If we survive the next landing, you'll be paid and you can find passage from there."

Doyle scooped up a rucksack he'd left in the shadows beside the landing strut, and Bodie swore silently. Doyle's weary retreat had been a bluff--he'd never planned to walk away in the first place, the overconfident bastard. But if he could fix the thrusters, Bodie could put up with him for a few days.

Hells knew, he'd put up with worse.

***

The Capri breezed through the pre-flight checks as expected--the lift-off thrusters were functioning just fine, after all. It was the landing bits on the belly that had been failing for quite some time, the ones that were really necessary in order to keep a soft landing from turning into a fiery crash.

Doyle had followed him up to the cockpit, glancing around at the various panels and screens. Bodie nodded to the co-pilot's chair. "Strap in, then."

"Anticipating a rough lift-off?"

"Are you saying you don't like it rough?" Bodie asked innocently.

Doyle didn't say anything; he just tightened the buckle of his crash belt as the Capri tipped up onto its keel and lifted off smoothly.

Bodie never quite grew immune to the wonder of it, shooting up through the clouds and into clear pale sky, darkening as the atmosphere thinned around him and then finally--starlight. He set a course for their destination and then thought to ask a pertinent question. "Does travelling by Leap Drive bother you?"

"No, I'm used to it."

"Good, because this would be an unpleasant trip if it did." Bodie engaged the drive, and the ship shuddered under their feet.

Leap Drive was a rather grandiose name for it--_hop drive_ would be a bit more honest. It meant travelling via microjumps past lightspeed, resulting in little jolts every few minutes as the drive recalibrated and began another jump. Some people got space-sick from it; it helped if you weren't looking out the viewscreen when the drive engaged. Disconcerting was hardly a sufficient term for watching the stars vanish and then reappear a moment later, all in different positions.

"Come on," Bodie said, unbuckling his crash belt. "I'll give you the tour." He led Doyle down a short corridor, pointing at each door as they passed. "Storage, my cabin, loo, and here's yours." He pressed a panel, and the door slid open. "It's basic, but it'll have to do. There's just one shower, and it doesn't get much above tepid. Though you're welcome to take a spanner to that, too, if you think it'll do any good."

"Does it lock?"

"The shower?"

"The bunk. Though I suppose it's a fair question regarding the loo, as well."

"Yeah, everything locks." So his passenger was a bit paranoid--that was all right. Paranoia kept you alive. Of course Bodie had the override codes, which made the question about locks irrelevant, but Doyle had to know that.

Doyle tossed his rucksack onto the bed and let Bodie lead him down the rest of the corridor. "Galley's through there. Food's mostly freeze-dried, although I did pick up a bit of fresh while I was dirtside. Formal attire is not required, and you can eat whenever and whatever you like. Past that, you've got the cargo hold and the engine room. That's it, really. Any questions?"

"Not exactly," Doyle said.

Bodie raised an expectant eyebrow.

"I don't mean to give offense--I only want to be clear. The work I've signed on to do is strictly in a..._vertical_ capacity."

Shame, that. Bodie nodded, but he grinned as Doyle turned away. After all, if there was one thing a freelance trader was good at, it was negotiation. "We're four days to Thunderhead," he called after Doyle. "See what you can do with the thrusters before then, will you?"

Once he was sure that his passenger was back in the engine room, Bodie returned to the cockpit and called up a certain database using a highly illegal access code that he'd obtained from a Gallian hunter a few years ago.

He entered the name _Ray Doyle_ and narrowed the search to humans. Two million known criminals by that name. He narrowed the results further: Approximate age, anywhere from twenty-five to thirty-five in standard years, although Bodie didn't think Doyle was older than thirty. Hair colour and style he omitted entirely, as they were so easily changed. He estimated Doyle's height and added it to the search factors.

Only four thousand results now. He added the only identifying mark he knew--the cheekbone that appeared to have been broken once--and found twelve entries.

None of the images fit the man who was now clanging around in the aft of Bodie's ship. So either Doyle had never been convicted of a crime, or he'd given Bodie a false name.

Bodie hadn't lived to see thirty by trusting to the general good nature of sentient species. He decided to keep a very close eye on 'Raymond Doyle' while he was on board.

As he closed down the search, he heard Doyle's tread on the deckplates. The cockpit door slid aside with a meek hiss, but judging by the prickly feeling on the back of his neck, Bodie thought Doyle might have preferred a door with traditional hinges. The sort that could be slammed open in a towering rage.

"What," Doyle growled, "in all the seven hells did you do to those thrusters?"

Bodie waited a beat before swivelling around in the pilot's chair. Doyle's sleeves were rolled to the elbow, revealing surprisingly muscular forearms. One hand was clenched around an old steel spanner.

He did not look happy.

"Well, it's not the first time they've needed repairs..."

"_Really_? I couldn't tell by the complete horror you've made of the system. It's amazing you haven't caught your engines on fire."

Bodie rubbed the back of his neck. "They might have done, actually. Just the once."

Doyle stared, apparently at a loss for words.

"I put it out! It didn't do any damage."

Doyle just shook his head and stalked back down the corridor to the engine bay.

Bodie didn't see him for the rest of the day--if it weren't for the airlock alarms, he'd have suspected that Doyle had spaced himself rather than try to figure out what the hell Bodie had done to the thrusters.

And it wasn't even as though he'd done _much_ to them. All right, it wasn't a very clean splice job, and maybe a few of the connectors were a little corroded by now, but it had been an emergency repair job done quite literally on the fly. Doyle was overreacting.

In fact, he saw very little of Doyle at all until the last jump. Whenever Bodie came into the galley, Doyle was just leaving; whenever he peered into the engine room, he was nowhere to be found.

Bodie rather suspected that his passenger was avoiding him.

He finally tracked Doyle down in the engine room just before the last jump, bent nearly double trying to reach an awkward bolt. Bodie admired the view for a moment before speaking.

"Hey."

Doyle jumped, hit his head on an exposed pipe, and cursed. "The hell do you want?" he snapped, glaring over his shoulder at Bodie.

"We're putting down shortly. That is, if you think the thrusters can handle it?"

"Yeah, I'll be done here in a moment." Doyle turned back to the thrusters, and the conversation was over.

They were just settling into a low orbit when Doyle slipped into the cockpit and dropped gracefully into the co-pilot's chair, rubbing absently at his head where he'd hit the pipe. Bodie hid a smile. After all, it couldn't have hurt too badly, cushioned by all that curly hair.

"All finished?" Bodie asked.

"We'd better hope so."

"Yeah, well, now we get to see if you're as good as you think you are." Bodie pulled them out of orbit and keyed the reverse thrusters. Instead of the usual whine and growl, they hummed loudly, and the ship's descent slowed to set them down, softly, in a spaceport berth.

Doyle let out a relieved sigh. Bodie grinned at him and slapped his shoulder in congratulations, but Doyle drew back sharply, glaring.

"Sorry, mate. Did a good job with those thrusters, though--I haven't heard them sing like that in years."

"Still needs some tuning up," Doyle muttered. He unbuckled his crash belt and practically fled to the engine bay, leaving Bodie to listen to the quiet ticking as the engines cooled down. Was Doyle really that much of a perfectionist, or had Bodie said something to upset him?

After what he deemed was an acceptable amount of time--about five minutes--he made his way back to the engine room.

"Thought you said all your work was going to be _vertical_," he said teasingly.

Doyle was lying on his back, tucked under a bit of the thruster mechanism. A rat's nest of wires descended from a missing panel, and Doyle was carefully sorting and untangling them. He paused long enough to offer Bodie a rude gesture before returning to the task at hand.

Bodie crouched down. "Come out of there for a moment, will you?"

Doyle wriggled out from beneath the panel; Bodie tried not to pay too much attention to the slight swell at the front of his jeans, tried not to start conjecturing what he might find underneath...

"Yeah?" Doyle asked. There was a smear of grease on his cheek.

"I'm going out to deliver the cargo. Care to join me?"

Doyle eyed him sceptically.

"Don't worry, I'm not anticipating any hostilities."

"If it's all the same to you, I'll just pack my things. I've managed to fix _most_ of the damage you did to the wiring back here, so you should live a while longer, at least."

"Right," Bodie said tightly. "Thanks for the help." He walked away without bothering to look back.

***

The gravity on Thunderhead was significantly higher than the gravity setting on the Capri, so even the short walk to the rendezvous point was more tiring than Bodie had expected. His coordinates were for a quiet bit of parkland just far enough from the port that the sound of a slugthrower or 'beam blast wouldn't carry. If that hadn't been enough to make him nervous, the four back-up men hidden among the trees and fake ruins certainly were.

This did not bode well for his surviving the meeting, but he was already too close to turn around without being noticed and shot in the back.

He comforted himself with calculating the effect that the higher gravity would have on a slug's trajectory. He'd have to aim slightly higher if he was shooting from a distance--up-close, it wouldn't matter, but he really didn't want to fight without cover if he could avoid it.

He swore quietly. At times like these he almost wished he carried a 'beam gun--they held more charges in a clip. He was damned good with a slugthrower, and he didn't expect to get off even half of the fifteen slugs before they took him down, but it would have been nice to have some kind of back-up of his own.

Oh, well. Looked like Doyle was about to come into an unexpected inheritance.

Jensen Walker--Jenny, as Bodie liked to think of him--strode up the tree-lined walk, his face a ruddy picture of perfect innocence. He was a close 'friend' of a Charlossian crime lord who didn't go in for the formality of military ranks, but Bodie didn't need to put it in terms of an army to know that Jensen ranked rather high in the organization. You didn't get to that position by playing fair.

Oh, of course Jenny wouldn't be carrying. He never did; it was part of his persona, a veneer of civility over his rotten core. But the muscle he hired would be armed to the teeth, and Jenny never objected to _them_ using 'beam guns while protecting his interests.

"Jensen," Bodie said calmly. "You came alone?"

A smug twist of his lips. "Yeah, like we agreed. You've got the cargo?"

Bodie held up the holographic chip. "If you've got the cash."

"Right. About that." Jensen took one long step back, and Bodie knew that had to be the signal.

He dropped to the ground before the backup men could fire and pulled the gun from the back of his belt. The two among the trees were easy enough to pick off, though he wasted a couple of shots in the thick trunks of the trees. The two behind the ruins scrambled back under cover, and Bodie took the opportunity to find a sturdy tree for cover of his own.

He didn't look to see where Jenny had gone. It didn't much matter, although he'd have enjoyed putting a slug in him, given the chance. The two lurking among the ruins had him pinned down, but if he could just get an angle...

One of the snipers leaned too far out of cover, and Bodie took advantage of his mistake, dropping him. One on one, now, and four slugs left--this he could handle. He hunkered down behind the tree, waiting. Eventually the sniper would get bored, would make a move to finish him off or flee back to town, and Bodie would have his chance.

He didn't have to wait long. The man sent out a last spatter of cover fire and dashed back in the direction of town. Bodie eased out from behind cover, drawing a bead. He let his arm fall--it didn't seem sporting to shoot a man in the back.

He stood up and wiped the dust from his trousers. He was already beginning to think of what an excellent pub yarn this would make when there was a flash, and his gun wrenched itself out of his hand to skid across the tumbled stone of the path. Bodie dropped and rolled to his knees, but he'd lost his cover and he knew this was it. He squinted against the sunlight. How had he missed another backup man?

But it was Jenny himself standing above him, with a compact 'beam gun in his hand. Bloody hell, the old bastard had broken his own rule. Bodie allowed himself a little pride at having shaken Jenny so much. Four spares and a holdout of his own; you'd almost think it was overkill.

"'Bye, Bodie," he said cheerfully over the whine of the charging 'beam gun.

A shadow loomed up behind Jensen. He turned and had just enough time to see the spanner as Doyle swung his arm up. The metal connected solidly with the side of Jensen's jaw. He folded in on himself, the gun tumbling from his hands.

Doyle stood there for a moment, one hand on his hip, silhouetted against the afternoon sun. A pair of dark glasses was perched on the top of his head. He shook his head and held out a hand to help Bodie up. "Not anticipating hostilities, huh?" he asked flatly.

"I _wasn't_," he protested, letting Doyle pull him to his feet. "If you were just out for a walk, it was nice timing."

"And if I wasn't 'just out for a walk'?"

"Then it was still good timing," Bodie said brightly. He bent to pick up his gun and found that the 'beam had sliced neatly through the barrel. He chucked it back down in disgust and traded it for Jensen's 'beam gun--he had a spare slugthrower on the Capri, but this would have to do for now. As an afterthought, he checked Jensen's pulse.

Doyle tensed. "Is he alive?"

"Does it matter?"

"It matters to me."

Bodie nodded. "He'll live. But I doubt he'll be very happy when he wakes up, so we should get moving."

"We?" Doyle asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah, we." Bodie sighed. "Look, I know I said I'd drop you off at the first port, but after this little scene the locals won't be happy with either of us, and if Jensen got a look at you... It might as well be murder, leaving you here now. It could be a few weeks before we hit any real civilisation again, but you can hang about on the Capri if you like."

"Thought you weren't interested in passengers."

"I'm not--but you've noticed I could use a mechanic, and it seems you're pretty handy with a spanner."

He didn't bother to mention the trouble they were both going to be in if Jenny decided to report their interference to his boss back on Charloss. Kell could make life interesting for a smuggler.

Interesting, and usually very short.

They lifted off again within the hour, well before anyone noticed the three dead men and their unconscious boss in the park. Bodie was sitting in the galley with a cup of tea, rubbing at his hand, when Doyle came in and reached for the kettle.

Doyle caught sight of him and frowned. "You all right?"

"Just bruised. 'Beam didn't hit me, but having a gun shot out of your hand stings."

"Here." Doyle set down his cup. He perched on the edge of the table in front of Bodie and took Bodie's right hand in both of his. He kneaded gently at his palm and fingers, loosening muscles that Bodie hadn't realised were sore.

And hells, if his touch felt that good just massaging Bodie's _hands_, then... He sat up straighter, shifting slightly in the chair.

Doyle let go of Bodie's hand, to Bodie's unexpectedly intense disappointment. "Better?"

He knew he was expected to find something sarcastic to say, but somehow he couldn't quite manage it. He flexed his hand and found that the ache was nearly gone. "Yeah, thanks."

Doyle grinned and slid back off the table, bringing the kettle to fill Bodie's cup and his own. "Just don't go asking for a happy ending," he said, with an outrageous wink in Bodie's direction.

Instead of pouring his tea and leaving, as Bodie had fully expected him to do, Doyle sat down at the table, choosing an actual chair this time. "You didn't shoot him."

"Huh?" Bodie asked inelegantly, jarred by the non sequitur.

"The last backup man. I was trying to get behind the boss when I saw him make a break for it. You drew on him, you had a clear shot, and you didn't take it."

"Doesn't feel right to shoot someone in the back. Granted, I'd have happily put a slug in Jenny's arse, but _he_ set me up." Bodie sighed and took a sip of tea. "Was supposed to be a nice pay-day, too. I had plans for that cash."

"Did those plans involve updating the thrusters?" Doyle asked wryly.

"Might have. Now I haven't even got the ready cash to pay you, unless I can find another buyer for this." He produced the holograph chip like a magician pulling a coin from the air. "I don't suppose you know anything about fencing fancy artwork?"

"Fencing it, no."

"But you know about art?"

He shrugged. "Used to paint a little, back home. Was never very good."

Bodie tossed the chip to Doyle; he caught it softly, glaring at Bodie for taking the risk with it. Shatter the bloody thing on the deckplates, and nobody was getting paid.

"All right, tell me what you think of that," Bodie said. "Give me your opinion as a never-very-good painter."

Doyle let the chip power up and eyed the abstract image that blossomed above the table. "A Mnemos. You're never telling me you've got your hands on a Mnemos?"

Bodie grinned smugly.

"You could buy a new bloody _ship_ with the price of this thing." Doyle turned the projector, looking at the way the colours melted into one another, the illusion of solidity to the holographic sculpture. His tea cooled, and his look of wonder faded slowly. He frowned as he powered down the chip. "I'm going to tell you what I think, and you're not going to like it."

"You won't hurt my feelings--I didn't make it."

"No, and neither did Mnemos. I think it's a forgery."

***

After Bodie was done pacing the galley and blistering the air with curses, Doyle handed the chip back to him. "Sorry. There's something about the angles that comes off wrong. If it was an early piece, you might expect that, but the date on the chip claims it was made only a year before he died."

"Fuck it all," Bodie muttered, sinking into one of the galley chairs. "Now what are we going to do?"

Doyle lifted an eyebrow. "_We_?"

Bodie wondered how he'd so quickly assumed that Doyle was in this with him, but he came up with a logical excuse. "Well, I can't pay you until I have the cash to do it. If I can't fence the piece, then I'm stuck waiting for someone else to offer me a job."

"I suppose you have a decision to make, then. You could try to fence it anyway, and hope that no one catches you foisting off a forgery." Doyle's frown told Bodie well enough what he thought of that course of action. "You could chuck it out the airlock, and take the loss. Or...you could try and hunt down the forger."

"You think there's a profit in that?"

Doyle smirked. "I imagine he's made a good bit of money selling forged pieces to gullible rich folks."

"Which means you wouldn't have any qualms about bringing him to, er, justice."

Doyle's expression hardened. "I won't be a part of this if you're planning to kill him."

"Kill him, no. Blackmail him, yes. He can't pay us if he's dead, can he?"

Doyle nodded, looking somewhat reassured, and his grip on the cup of tea loosened slightly.

Bodie sighed. "All right, then. How do we go about hunting down the forgers? Have you got any contacts?"

There it was again, the shifting and tightening of the shoulders. "Not anymore," he said softly.

One of these days, Bodie promised himself. If Doyle stayed around long enough, Bodie would break out a bottle of wine and start prying--very carefully--into Doyle's past.

"Has it got a provenance?"

"Hm?" Bodie asked, focusing back on the matter at hand.

"A provenance, a list of previous--"

"I know what a provenance is, Professor Doyle," he said dryly. "And no, it doesn't. When Jensen offered me the pickup job, I was told that the piece had been...appropriated. A provenance would just be evidence that the new owner had received stolen goods."

"Right. So we'll start with whoever gave it to you, and we'll work our way back."

Bodie stood up and started for the com unit in the cockpit. "I'll call in some favours, make a few judicious threats. You can take a look at the hydraulics if you like."

***

Bodie managed to trace the false Mnemos back three steps, to a very handsome and charm-resistant dealer who stonewalled him completely. The man was interested in neither sweet talk nor veiled threats, and Bodie switched off the com unit with a grimace, wondering what they were going to do next.

As soon as the outgoing com was off, Doyle's voice crackled out of the ship's intercom. "Fucking _hell_, the hydraulics are even worse than the thrusters were!"

Bodie grinned as he hit the reply switch. "I suppose I _have_ been putting off replacements..."

There was a moment of muttered cursing, and then Doyle's frustrated sigh sounded through the com. "I haven't got enough hands for this. Come back here and help me out."

"Bossy, aren't you?" Bodie asked, but he started aft anyway.

The scene in the engine room made him wonder how, exactly, they were still flying, with so much of the Capri's guts spilled out along the floor. He thought about saying as much to Doyle, but the thunderous expression on his face suggested that it would not be a good idea. He hunkered down next to Doyle, who was twisting a section of pipe into place. "What do you need me to do?"

Doyle pointed to another segment of flexible piping. "Just hold that. Tightly."

"If that's how you like it," Bodie purred. Doyle just rolled his eyes.

It wasn't Bodie's fault. He'd been doing exactly as Doyle told him--hold this, twist that, no, the other way--so he couldn't be blamed for what happened.

The line simply burst, soaking Doyle in pornographic spurts of hydraulic fluid. Bodie fell back on his heels, sniggering, while Doyle cursed viciously and tried to patch the leak. Bodie's laughter was contagious, though, and it took a while to rig up a patch.

"Thanks for your help, you bastard," Doyle said, grinning wryly.

Bodie wiped his eyes, still laughing. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it just looked like something you'd see in a _very_ dirty film."

"Yeah." Doyle tried to find a bit of his shirt he could wipe his hands on, but the whole thing was soaked.

"Here," Bodie said, reaching for the buttons. "Give me your shirt and I'll run it through the cleaner--otherwise you'll never get the stain out of it."

Doyle jerked back and pushed Bodie's hand away. "I'll take care of it. See if you can get a permanent patch on that line without blowing us up, will you?" He hauled himself to his feet and left the corridor.

Bodie wondered if he might have gone overboard with the dirty-film comment--but then, Doyle had been laughing as well. He sighed. Too prickly and independent for his own good, Doyle was.

Bodie finished patching the line without any further mishaps, but Doyle still hadn't returned. He poked his head into the galley and then the cockpit, but both were empty.

Doyle had probably gone into the loo to wash up and forgotten to throw the shirt into the cleaner. Bodie could just pop into his bunk, retrieve the shirt, and he'd have it cleaned and laid over the back of Doyle's chair by the time he came into the galley for dinner. He waved at the access panel, overriding the lock, and the door to Doyle's bunk obediently slid to one side.

He froze in the doorway.

Doyle's shirt was thrown over the edge of the bed, and Doyle himself stood in the middle of the room, bare to the waist, his back to the door as he rummaged through the contents of his rucksack.

Sprouting from his back in two elegant arcs of white feathers was a pair of wings.

"Bloody hell," Bodie said at last. "You never told me you were Angeline!"

Doyle tensed; his spine straightened, but he didn't turn. His silence spoke volumes.

"You're a Fallen, then," Bodie said with quiet wonder. An ex-Angeline, banished, on the run...

Doyle's spine bowed slightly, then abruptly he raised his head and spun to face Bodie, the tip of one wing brushing the wall. "What would an Earthbound know about it, anyway?" he snapped. Bodie had never heard the word used before, but on Doyle's lips it sounded like a curse.

"Not much," Bodie admitted. "It's exile, isn't it?"

Doyle laughed bitterly. "Worse than that, if they catch you."

"Surely they wouldn't _kill_ you?" That didn't fit at all with what Bodie knew about Angeline culture. They were supposed to be peaceful--their home planet was practically utopian.

He shook his head. "The forfeit one pays for a Vengeance is his wings."

Bodie gaped, unexpectedly horrified. "You mean they--"

"They take your wings. Oh, but of course they numb you against the pain first. After all, it's only humane." His lip twisted. "Literally so, in fact--they make you _like a human_."

"A terrible fate indeed," Bodie said dryly. "To be human."

Doyle frowned at him. "You don't understand."

"Then enlighten me."

"It's like being ground-locked, trapped on the surface of a single planet for the rest of your life, while everyone else can come and go as they please. How would _you_ like that? Half of our homes, our shops, can only be reached by flight. They won't force you to leave the planet, but they'll shame you away."

"I'm sorry."

Doyle snorted. "It's hardly your fault."

"I meant for barging in on you," he clarified, and was rewarded with a wry smile. "Here, give me that shirt. I only wanted to run it through the cleaner--I thought you'd forgotten about it."

Doyle handed over the soaked wad of fabric. With immense effort, Bodie tore his eyes away from the wings and their owner long enough to escape into the corridor.

He threw the shirt into the cleaner along with a few other items and cycled it. Wouldn't be done by dinnertime, then, but soon enough afterward.

He puttered about the galley, putting together a simple meal for them both. It all could have been done automatically, of course, but if he had something to do with his hands then perhaps he could stop wondering how those feathers might feel gliding along his hands, brushing his skin...

Bodie wrenched his thoughts away from that particular tack just in time to keep the meal from burning. He paid better attention after that, and the results seemed to be palatable. It was hardly the fare of a fancy-dress Thalion restaurant, but it would do.

After a moment's thought, he pulled two bottles of wine from a cupboard and set them in the refrigeration unit to chill. Then he left the galley to invite Doyle to join him.

This time he remembered his manners, and he knocked.

"Yeah?" Doyle called from inside.

"There's food, if you're interested. Won't make you endure my company if you'd rather not."

There was a pause, and then the door slid aside.

Bodie was faintly disappointed to find that Doyle had hidden his wings again, even though he'd only deigned to button his dark-green shirt halfway. But the lack of wings was Bodie's only cause for complaint; Doyle even made vague conversation over dinner, apparently having forgiven Bodie for his intrusion.

It was Bodie himself who found it difficult to keep up with the conversation, realising a heartbeat too late when he should be responding or chuckling. Finally, Doyle set down his fork and looked up. "You might as well ask," he said placidly.

Bodie sighed; was his curiosity that obvious? "All right. You said it was a Vengeance, what you did."

Doyle nodded.

"What is that?"

"Exactly what it sounds like. I took revenge on a being for a crime he had committed, in defiance of the law, and for that I was declared a Fallen."

"What did you do?"

It was an intensely personal question, perhaps the most personal thing he could have asked, and Bodie knew it. He just wanted to see if Doyle would answer him.

He did, but his voice was quiet, almost a monotone. "I was a Keeper. We worked in teams of two, to keep the order on our homeworld, to make sure the peace was not broken. My partner went to stop a fight between offworlders, and one of them had a blade."

Doyle stopped there, but Bodie could fill in the blanks well enough on his own. "So you killed the one who killed him?"

His smile was bitter, cold. "Yes."

Bodie shuddered and rose from the table. "I'm beginning to rethink that pure, innocent image I have of you Angeline," he said, but he ruffled Doyle's hair as he passed to take the sting from the words.

Doyle stood up to help clear the table, and Bodie pushed down lightly on his shoulder. "Don't go anywhere. There's wine."

"Really?"

Bodie grinned. "We Earthbound aren't _entirely_ devoid of civilisation, you know."

To prove the he was in fact capable of polite conversation, Bodie even avoided the subject of Doyle's past for an entire bottle of wine. But after opening the second, his curiosity refused to be ignored any longer. "How is it you managed to keep your wings?"

"Never stopped long enough to let them catch up to me, did I?"

"How long has it been since you 'stopped,' then?"

"Six years, now."

"You've been running for that long?"

"Yeah." He held up his glass, eyeing the deep colour of the wine. "Usually as soon as the transport sets down, I'm off. I don't remember the last time I stayed with anyone for a second trip."

"I'm flattered, mate."

Doyle took a sip of wine and shook his head. "Don't be. I'll have to leave soon, I can't stay. If I stay too long I'll get connected, weighed down..." He laughed. "It's important, when you have wings, to keep yourself unburdened, you see? When I ran, I sold everything I had, tried not to let my possessions accumulate."

"Is that all you sold?" Bodie asked softly. "Your possessions?"

"You know it isn't."

He had wondered about that, ever since Doyle's odd insistence on working _vertically_, but he kept his face impassive as he nodded.

"You'd be surprised how much an Earthbound will pay for a night with an Angeline," Doyle said lightly, rising to pour them both another glass of wine.

No, Bodie thought, eyeing Doyle's broad shoulders and narrow hips, the curve of his arse in the tight jeans. He didn't think he'd be surprised at all.

Doyle sat back down. "There was one woman, an ornithologist. She spent more than an hour just...touching my wings. She couldn't have understood what it felt like--"

"Unpleasant?"

Doyle laughed. "Quite the opposite. I've never... It was exquisite."

"Is that all she paid for, then?"

"Oh, no. When she was done, I gave her the night of her life."

Bodie knew he should stop there--he'd done enough prying for one night--but instead he stretched out a hand. "What about this?" He traced a fingertip gently over Doyle's broken cheekbone. "Was that because of the Vengeance, or did it happen after?"

Doyle's smile turned wry; Bodie could feel the muscles shifting under his fingers. "Let's just say not everyone was as gentle as the ornithologist."

Bodie felt a flood of unexpected fury at the thought of someone setting out to hurt Doyle. It was probably the wine that made him keep talking. "I like it, though. Makes you look...rakish, like a fallen angel should."

"You're drunk," Doyle said gently, pulling away from him. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

Bodie offered a lewd grin, but he let Doyle lead him back down the corridor without further comment. Besides, this way he could watch Doyle's arse all the way down the hall, how it shifted as he walked, the way the denim of his jeans fitted him so well...

Bodie stopped about a half-inch away from running right into him. Doyle had paused outside of the door to Bodie's cabin, apparently waiting for Bodie to step round and unlock his own door. But instead Bodie reached out with one hand and traced the curves of the wings where they were held folded against Doyle's body, a faint outline you'd never notice unless you knew to look for it. Doyle shivered, but he didn't step away.

Bodie reached round him to open the door, and slipped.

"Careful, there, sunshine," Doyle laughed, steadying him. His hand was warm on Bodie's hip, and they were standing so close, it would be so easy to turn around and...

No. Not yet. Bodie straightened up with hazy dignity and stepped into the cabin. The lights flickered on automatically, low and blue--a false evening here in the black of space.

Doyle vanished from the doorway and returned a moment later with a glass of water. He set it on Bodie's bedside table. "Drink this before you sleep, or you'll be miserable in the morning," he ordered. Bodie rolled his eyes but drank off the water obediently. He set the glass down, blinking at Doyle.

"You all right?" Doyle asked.

The blue glow of the light made it look as though they were underwater. The ship shuddered as they made another Leap, jolting Bodie back to the present. "'Course I am, angel," he said fondly. "Angelfish."

Doyle smiled. "You really are out of it, aren't you? Go to sleep, Bodie."

And for a wonder, he did.

***

Bodie woke the next morning in considerably less pain than he expected, and the headache faded away entirely after a shower and a cup of tea. Doyle was nowhere to be found, so Bodie sat down in the cockpit and decided to do a spot of research.

The holographic screen hovered above the cockpit's control panels, responding to Bodie's fingers on the handheld, and it was only a moment before he found what he was looking for.

He read all that the handheld had to offer about the Angeline--laws, customs, the coordinates of their homeworld. He learned the many different ways in which "Earthbound" could be used as an insult--appellative, adjective, and interjection were the most common. He was just moving on to physiology when he heard footsteps in the corridor.

Bodie rushed to darken the projection, but not before Doyle caught sight of a Vitruvian sketch of an Angeline in three dimensions, wings extending well beyond the outer circle. "You won't find much difference there," he said leaning on the back of Bodie's chair. "We're all but identical to humans, biologically speaking, except about the shoulders."

Bodie turned to him in mock-surprise. "You mean you don't lay eggs?"

"Even if we did, _I_ certainly wouldn't."

Bodie chuckled. "So how do you keep your wings folded close like that?"

"Old shoulder rig for a 'beam gun. I took the holster off it, but the straps work just fine."

"Sounds kinky," Bodie said cheerfully. "You know, if you still have the holster, I've got a spare 'beam gun you could put in it."

"No thanks," Doyle said. He was still smiling, but his eyes were cool.

"Yeah, you did all right with the spanner, didn't you? Still, we might end up in some rough places, tracing this Mnemos back to the source, and I've got a vested interest in making sure my mechanic is protected. Just the _sight_ of a 'beam gun should be enough to keep you out of trouble. Do you know how to use one?"

He nodded. "But target-shooting is a bit different from shooting at something living."

"You could do it--if it came down to it." Bodie had intended it as a compliment, but he saw Doyle's expression darken with something like guilt. He kept talking, scarcely aware of what he was saying. "You've only ever used a 'beam, then? I'm partial to slugthrowers--I know they're archaic, but you don't get the kick from a 'beam gun. Can't hardly tell you've fired something."

"I still don't want to carry."

"Suit yourself. Just keep the some tools handy, then, huh?"

"Is that a spanner in my pocket, or am I just happy to see you?" Doyle suggested with a thin smile.

Bodie grinned. "Why couldn't it be both? And you know," he added, somewhat more seriously, "you don't have to...you know, keep them hidden, if you'd rather not."

"It's all right. The wings get in the way, on a human-built ship. You never make your corridors wide enough," he chided.

"Whatever you say, angelfish." The endearment just slipped out, unplanned. Bodie wasn't even quite sure where it had come from.

Doyle flushed and turned away. Bodie grinned and resolved to begin using the nickname as often as possible.

"So how far have you got, tracing the sculpture?" Doyle asked, recovering himself.

Bodie sighed. "I'm stuck at Iru Alaria. Bastard won't tell me a thing. I couldn't even make him _smile_."

"Oh dear," Doyle said. "Someone immune to your charms?"

"You're welcome to have a go if you like," he replied sourly.

"All right, then."

Expecting nothing but a confirmation of Alaria's stubbornness, Bodie keyed in the com code and let Doyle have his seat. He stood to one side, well out of the com's line of sight.

The com connected, and the image of a man took shape above the console. "Alaria Gallery," he said. "I'm Iru Alaria. And you are?"

"Mister Alaria?" Doyle said. "My name's Ray. I'm...something of an art student, and I had a question about one of the pieces you've sold."

"Yes?"

"I was wondering where you got the Mnemos piece you sold a few months ago."

He smiled, but the expression was hard. "Professional secret."

"I promise I'm not trying to steal your client. I'm studying the piece, and I have a few questions that I'd like to ask a previous owner."

That, at least, was true enough. Bodie smirked, unseen, from the corner.

"Student of art history, are you?"

"Student of forged artwork," Doyle said, something dry and cool in his voice now.

He glared. "That's a very serious accusation."

"And I wouldn't be making it if I wasn't certain. I'm hoping to find the source of the piece, to make sure that no one tries to sell you a forged piece again."

Alaria glanced off-screen, clearly coming to a decision. Bodie could see that Doyle's revelation about the piece had shaken him. After all, a middle dealer had only a reputation to go on, and it only took one forgery to bring a reputation down in flames.

"If you give us a lead," Doyle said gently, "I can make sure no one else finds out about this."

He looked back at Doyle with a resigned look on his face. "Talk to Grenna Halprin," he said at last. "But don't tell her I sent you."

"Not a word--to her, or to anyone. Thank you for your help. "

Alaria snorted and switched off the com.

Doyle swivelled the pilot's chair around to face Bodie. "So do you know this Grenna Halprin?" He saw the look on Bodie's face. "You do, then."

"We've worked together before," he said, a bit smugly. "I've got her private com."

Doyle seemed to understand the significance of that fact, and he ceded the pilot's chair to Bodie again.

He called up Grenna's com, and a woman with deep lilac skin appeared on the screen. "Hello, Bodie," she said warmly.

"Grenna. Business with you is always a...pleasure."

She smiled. "For me, or for you?"

"For both of us, I hope."

"It always is. What do you want to know about?"

Bodie held up the holographic chip. "I've got a bit of forged artwork here. I've heard you might know something about where it came from."

Her eyes narrowed. "I don't fence forgeries."

"I know, love. But I'm sure you've got a blacklist of people who do. And I'm prepared to do what I must in order to get my hands on it."

"Your dedication to your work is admirable," she said. Then her eyes flickered past Bodie, and he realised that Doyle had just stepped into the com's line of sight. "I see you've picked up an intriguing bit of cargo, Bodie. Do you think he'd be interested in joining us?"

"He's not on the menu, Grenna."

She shrugged. "Can't have everything, I suppose. When can I expect you?"

"We can set a course and arrive by morning."

"I'll have a transport waiting. Wear something easily removed, will you?" She smiled and waved a hand off-screen; Bodie's screen went dark.

Doyle chuckled. "She is going to eat you alive."

"Yeah." Bodie's grin was sharp. "I'm looking forward to it."

"So you're equal-opportunity, when it comes to..." Doyle trailed off, and the look on his face suggested that he regretted saying anything.

"Yeah," he replied brightly. "What about you?"

Doyle rolled his eyes. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Bodie would have liked to know very much, in fact, but Doyle left the cockpit then, and the conversation was over.

They set down just after dawn, local time, although it felt like early afternoon to both of them. Bodie ran the Capri's cooldown checks, and then he ducked into his cabin to change.

When he emerged, he nearly collided with Doyle in the corridor. "On your way out?" Doyle asked.

"Yeah. You sure you don't want to join me?" Bodie offered. "With the show we could put on, Grenna'd tell us everything she ever knew about the business."

Doyle shook his head. "You're on your own, mate."

"Well, if you insist," he sighed. "I should be back in a couple of hours."

"And if you're not?"

Bodie grinned again. "Then don't wait up, angelfish." He winked and strolled down the landing ramp, out into the bustle of the spaceport.

***

He had to hand it to her--she made him work for his information. He just happened to enjoy this particular sort of work _very_ much. And after spending two weeks with a very handsome and very off-limits passenger, Bodie appreciated having an outlet for the tension.

Grenna stretched languorously. "So how did you know to come to me, anyway?"

"My 'interesting bit of cargo' talked it out of Iru Alaria."

Grenna blinked. "You've got a passenger who can sweet-talk Alaria? If you ever get tired of him, Bodie, you'll point him in my direction, won't you?"

"Not likely."

"That you'll tire of him, or that you'll send him to me?"

Bodie grinned and kissed her. "Both," he said. "You've got a list for me?"

"Of course I've got the list." Grenna swung her legs over the side of the bed and retrieved a data chip from a hidden drawer in the desk. She handed it over, and Bodie found his trousers on the floor and slipped the chip into his pocket.

"Thanks, Gren."

She grimaced at the nickname. "Look, I'm going give you a piece of advice, too, because I like you so much."

"Yeah?"

"Drop it," she said flatly. "Drop the whole business and go to ground for a while."

"Go to ground? Why?"

"One of the only people I know who could make something _that_ close to a Mnemos lives on Charloss Beta."

Bodie gave her a blank look. "And?"

"And there are some rather important people in that system who are unhappy with you right now."

"Oh, you mean Jenny." Bodie waved a dismissive hand.

"And his boss."

Bodie's guts froze, but he kept his face impassive. "I have no quarrel with anyone else on Charloss. And anyway, it was Jenny who reneged on our agreement. Brought four armed men to a simple exchange of goods, and then had them open fire--not very polite."

"Polite or not, if you get in their way again, Bodie-love, they may decide to do something about it. And the price that Kell could put out on you, well, even _I'd_ be tempted."

"I'll remember that next time you call me offering a tip."

"Don't worry. I'd make sure you died happy."

Less than comforted by that idea, Bodie dressed, called for a transport, and left.

When he got back to the ship, he wasted no time in pulling up Grenna's blacklist on his handheld. The list was long, but more than half of the entries were written in red--a sign that they would not be a problem to Grenna anymore...or to anyone else. Their forger ought to count himself lucky that it was Bodie and Doyle who were after him, and not a member of Grenna's network. Bodie sat down in the cockpit to sort through the remaining entries on the list.

There were two shops that dealt exclusively in sculpture, and they seemed like a promising place to start. One was on Angeline--Bodie hoped it wouldn't be that one, or they'd really reached a dead end.

The other was in the Charloss system, like Grenna had said. Not much better, really, but at least they weren't wanted by any authorities there. Yet.

Footsteps on the deckplates announced Doyle's arrival.

"I think I've got a place," Bodie said, turning to face him. "Don't ask me _how_, because it's a long, tawdry story, and I've discovered that I've made a surprising number of enemies in the Charlossian system, but I think I know where the sculpture came from."

"Brilliant," Doyle said. "Where are we off to now?"

"Um, Charloss Beta?" Bodie said with a wince. "Where Jenny's boss may be about to put a small price on my head."

"I'll just keep that spanner in my pocket, shall I?" Doyle asked dryly.

"It would be a great comfort to me."

***

They landed on Charloss just as the paired suns rose. With all the short hops they had been making, Bodie was beginning to lose track of ship's time. He had set it long ago to match a schedule he liked--about a twenty-five-hour cycle--and there was no use adjusting it to match whatever port he happened to occupy. As a rule, he never stayed in one place long enough for it to matter, but he'd have appreciated a nap all the same.

The artist's shop wasn't far from the port. It made for a nice, long walk, and the open air felt good after days spent cooped up in the ship. Bodie had been expecting the place to be striking, a grand gallery of some kind. But the shop was plain and unassuming, with only a small sign above the door.

Then again, if a fellow made his fortune selling forgeries, it wouldn't do to draw too much attention to his work. Bodie pushed open the door and held it for Doyle, who brushed past him and glanced at the holographic sculptures that lined the walls. Bodie couldn't see much resemblance to their forged piece, but Doyle gave him a small nod.

"We're in the right place," he said quietly.

"If you say so." Bodie shifted, appreciating the weight of the slugthrower concealed by his jacket.

A young woman sat at a desk in the corner, shaping a new sculpture with a magnetic wand. She looked up at them, her hand still poised in the air. "Hello. What can we do for you?"

"Oh, love, where shall I start?" Bodie asked, flashing her a suggestive smile. Doyle let him flirt, continuing his circuit around the room.

"Have you ever been here before?" the woman asked.

"No, we're only in port for a day, but we'd heard about your shop, thought we'd take a look around."

Her eyes followed Doyle. "Is your friend looking to purchase a piece?"

"Maybe," Bodie said. "He's terribly picky, though, so I'm not sure if--"

"These are amazing," Doyle said, just on cue. "Inspired by Mnemos, were you?"

Bodie, watching her, saw her eyes flash. "Those aren't mine. That's my husband's work."

"Your husband? Is he in? I'd love to buy him a drink. I'm afraid I don't know much about art, but the colours are just incredible."

She smiled brightly, perhaps anticipating a sale. "Yes, he's in. I'll go and fetch him, tell him he has an admirer downstairs."

She returned a moment later with a man in early middle-age, streaks of grey almost hidden by his expensively-styled blond hair. Doyle played the part of an enthusiastic amateur with ease, shaking his hand and expounding on the excellence of the displayed work.

Bodie, all but forgotten by both of the proprietors, edged closer to overhear what was being said.

"--very pleased that you enjoy my modest works," the man was saying.

"Really amazing, it is. Could almost have been done by Mnemos himself."

The man smiled and started to demur.

"Almost," Doyle repeated softly, holding up the forged holograph chip. Bodie saw him slide abruptly from eager admirer to grim, menacing Keeper. He wouldn't have wanted to be on the wrong end of that glare.

The forger tried to keep up the pretence, stammering something about imitation and flattery. His wife reached into a drawer under the table, but Bodie prodded her gently with the tip of his slugthrower. "Better not, love. Let's let them have their conversation, yeah?"

She pulled her hand away and sat down, looking disgruntled. Bodie retrieved a vicious snub-nosed 'beam gun out of the drawer and tucked it into his belt.

Across the room, Doyle was continuing his interrogation. "How many of these have you sold with Mnemos' name on them?" he asked, all traces of naïveté gone from him. "How much have you made? A hundred thousand? Two hundred?"

"I don't know what you're--"

"You _do_ know," he growled. "You've been forging copies of Mnemos' sculptures and selling them. Not yourself, no, but through middlemen. Maybe the middlemen even think they're selling the real thing. But imagine what the collectors would say, finding out that the piece they bought for a fortune was a forgery..."

"Imagine what they might _do_," Bodie added sagely, looming up beside the artist and leaning a falsely friendly arm on his shoulder. "Disgruntled collectors are a dangerous and highly irrational breed--to say nothing of the dealers whose reputations you might have ruined."

He swallowed hard. "Surely we can come to an agreement?" he said anxiously.

Doyle shrugged. "It might be possible. What were you thinking, Bodie?"

"Fifteen thousand. And no more 'imitations.' Mnemos himself was a starving artist once--you ought to take a turn at it, too."

The artist winced at the figure and opened his mouth to argue them down.

"Or we could ask your patrons what they feel is a fair price," Doyle suggested.

He held up his hands. "No, no. Fifteen, then."

The details of the transfer proceeded swiftly from there, and Bodie and Doyle left behind a very weary forger only a few minutes later.

Bodie cast a cheerful glance at Doyle. "You were good in there. Very intimidating."

Doyle shook his head. "Part of being a Keeper."

"Extorting crooked businessmen?"

"_No_\--looking like trouble so that other people won't give you any. If you think I'm good at it, you should've seen..." He trailed off. "Never mind."

Bodie let it go, knowing better than to ask, and they sat down to a quiet celebratory lunch while they waited to get paid.

They lingered only long enough to see the funds transferred to the proper account, and Bodie immediately shuttled the money off to a more secure account off-planet. They were both feeling rather pleased with themselves by the time they made their way back to the spaceport.

That feeling evaporated, though, when they caught sight of a half-dozen enforcers lounging around the ramp of the Capri.

"Boss wants to see you," a human woman said, one hand resting on the worn butt of a 'beam gun.

"Who's your boss?" Bodie asked.

"You'll find out when you get there, won't you?"

But Bodie was fairly sure he already knew. He saw the other five taking up flanking positions, and all of them had their hands suspiciously close to their weapons. If he tried to turn this into a fight, it was going to be a bloodbath--and the odds were not in his favour.

He held up his hands in a gesture of acceptance, if not outright surrender. "Fine. I'll go and see your boss. Let my friend stay here, though, will you? He's just a passenger. Besides, someone needs to give those hydraulics a once-over before we leave."

"He goes, too," she said shortly. "Boss's orders."

Bodie threw Doyle a regretful look--_I tried_\--which Doyle shrugged off. They let their weapons be taken, then let themselves be hustled into a windowless ground-skimmer. Bodie wondered if they were ever going to find their way back to the Capri...or if they were going to live long enough to try.

It was hard to get a feel for the speed of the skimmer without a view outside, but Bodie didn't think they'd gone more than ten miles when they started to slow again. That would put them beyond the outskirts of the city, perhaps at a nice sprawling manor somewhere on the edge of open country.

But when the skimmer came to a stop, they disembarked into an indoor chamber--apparently Kell didn't want anybody learning too much about the entrances and exits to his compound.

They were led up a long lift and down a series of winding corridors before a door opened onto a richly-furnished sitting room. Sprawled in a chair at one end, flanked by two bodyguards at parade rest, sat a male of the same humanoid species as the lovely Grenna. Kell's skin was a pale blue shade, and his build was light and ethereal enough to make him appear beautiful and non-threatening to most humans.

And then, of course, the human would get too complacent, and Kell would move in for the killing blow.

Bodie gave each of the bodyguards a brief once-over, relieved to see that Jensen wasn't among them. One guard was human, bulky, wearing a bounty collar, and the other was Angeline. He frowned. There was something _off_ about her, something not quite normal. Then she shifted, and her wing fluttered.

Her _only_ wing. Bodie nearly recoiled at the immense wrongness of it. He felt Doyle's hand on his arm, gripping tightly, and he wasn't sure if Doyle was trying to reassure him or to steady himself. As twisted as the sight might seem to Bodie, it had to be a hundred times worse for Doyle.

If Kell noticed their reaction, and Bodie was prepared to bet that he had, he made no mention of it. He simply eyed the two of them evenly. "You are Bodie."

He nodded.

"And this must be your associate, who I'm told is so useful with a tool-kit."

Instead of introducing himself as Kell no doubt expected, Doyle only gave him a tight smile and said nothing.

Kell returned his attention to Bodie. "The two of you attacked and injured one of my dear friends in the course of a business deal," he admonished. "I do not tolerate that sort of violence against my people."

"If there was violence, _he_ started it," Bodie argued. "Jensen violated the rules of our agreement. He brought four armed men to a solo deal and tried to have them pick me off before I could collect my fee for the cargo. And speaking of cargo," he added, "you need to keep a better eye on your suppliers. The piece Jensen hired me to pick up was a fake."

Kell's eyes widened, and Bodie began to hope that they might walk out of this building alive. "A fake?"

"Yeah. We spotted it and traced it back to the dealer, who confessed. He won't be a problem anymore. But if one person's lying to you, odds are he's not alone."

The stormy expression on Kell's face boded very ill for someone; Bodie hoped that his wrath wasn't going to play itself out on the two of them. But gradually his expression calmed, and when he glanced up at Bodie again he seemed almost amused.

"Well, well. It appears you've just bought yourself a measure of forbearance, William Bodie."

Bodie began to breathe a little more easily. "I'm sorry about the, er, miscommunication with Jensen. In the future, if he stays out of our way, we'll be glad to stay out of his. And yours, unless you have work for us."

Kell nodded. "Jensen will be made aware of the terms. Hida." He flicked one hand lazily in the direction of the door.

The enforcer who had brought them into the compound stepped forward, a look of utter loathing masked so quickly that Bodie wasn't sure at whom it had been directed. She led them out with only two others to accompany her, instead of the full complement that had brought them in. She guided them into the windowless skimmer again, and Bodie wondered cynically if she was just taking them to a nice outlying area where nobody would find their bodies until the local carrion-eaters had picked the bones clean.

After a series of seemingly aimless turns, she pulled the skimmer to a stop and let them out into a fallow field that only seemed to reinforce Bodie's suspicions. She made no move for her own weapon, though, and Bodie felt a tiny fraction of the tension leach from his spine. Hida handed him his slugthrower, which he noted had been emptied of all ammunition, including the slug in the chamber. He holstered it anyway.

"So this is where the taxi service stops?" he asked.

Hida gave him a grin that held no humour whatsoever. "The spaceport is that way," she said flatly, pointing to the empty horizon where the primary star was setting. "Enjoy your walk."

She climbed back into the skimmer, revved the thrusters, and pulled away.

Bodie looked over at Doyle. "You up for a hike, angelfish?"

"I don't think we have any choice," he said, but there was a hint of relief in his voice. They had been to the lair of the beast and left unscathed. Bodie was tempted to give in to elation himself, now that they were out of immediate 'beam range of Kell and his people.

All the same, he'd be a hell of a lot happier once they were back on board the Capri. He hurried to catch up with Doyle, who had struck off in the direction of the sunset. He looked utterly unconcerned, except for a sort of tightness around his eyes.

"Are you all right?" Bodie asked.

"Hm? Yeah, why?"

"I thought the Angeline woman in there might have, I don't know, bothered you."

"You mean it didn't bother you?" Doyle asked, casting a sceptical glance in his direction.

"Of course it bloody bothered me. I don't claim to understand Angeline culture, but taking _one_ wing is just sick. What kind of a fucked-up planet did you live on, anyway?"

"It's not us," he said roughly. "Whoever did that to her, it wasn't an Angeline sentence. They never take only one wing--because it leaves you in the middle, you see? And they like everything to be neatly divided, Angeline and Earthbound and nothing in between."

Bodie realised that Doyle had said _they_, not _we_. "So if the Angeline didn't do it, then how could it have happened?"

Doyle shrugged. "Might have been an accident, but most Angeline would rather have the other removed as well than go about...maimed like that. I expect it was a punishment, maybe ordered by Kell himself."

"Good thing he didn't know about you, then."

"You mean, good thing you bargained us out of punishment. Do you really think Kell's being cheated by his other suppliers?"

Bodie shook his head. "Maybe, maybe not. The important thing is that _Kell_ thinks someone else might be cheating him. It distracted him, and it gave him a nice place to redirect any animosity he felt towards us."

"Clever. But I'm still glad to be out of there."

"So am I," Bodie admitted. "Although it would have been nice to find out where the compound was."

Doyle gave him a look that severely questioned his sanity. "Were you planning to make a social call?"

"No. But it's always good to know where your...associates go to ground. With all the little turns that Hida took bringing us out here, she wanted to disorient us more than anything. We're probably not more than a few miles from the place, but it doesn't matter--we don't know which direction we came from."

Doyle scanned the horizon, frowning. Bodie didn't know what he was looking for; they were certainly far enough away that the compound wouldn't be visible, but Doyle seemed satisfied at the unbroken, uninhabited prairie around them. "I might be able to do something about that."

He kicked off his boots and started unbuttoning his shirt. Bodie opened his mouth to make a sarky comment on there being a time and a place for this sort of thing, but found his throat was too dry to speak. The shirt dropped on top of the boots in the short grass, and then Doyle tugged at the harness binding his wings and tossed it down with the rest.

He turned to Bodie with a grin. "I'll be right back." He stretched his wings, crouched, and then leapt into the air.

Doyle had a strange sort of grace when he was on the ground, and it became even more evident in the air. The way he held himself, the smooth strokes of his wings as he rose into the air--it was mesmerising.

"There's an estate about three miles to the south," Doyle called down to him. "It's the only thing in sight."

Bodie vaguely registered the words, and didn't realise Doyle was expecting a response until he looked down. He'd been staring up at Doyle for...how long now? He looked down with supreme effort and scrambled to copy Doyle's estimate into his handheld.

He was disappointed when the beat of Doyle's wings slowed and he sank back down to the ground. He was grinning in an absent sort of way, a smile of pure, uncomplicated enjoyment. Bodie wondered how long it had been since the last time he'd been able to fly.

Instead of reaching for his shirt and harness, Doyle knelt down to put his boots on first. Did Angeline go barefoot as a matter of course? Or did they favour lighter shoes that wouldn't weigh them down as much?

Doyle straightened up and stretched again, and Bodie found himself impressed by the muscles that Doyle's wiry frame disguised.

Well, impressed was a polite word for it. Bodie considered trying a kiss--or perhaps more. They were out here in the middle of nowhere, so it wasn't as though anyone would see, and he was nearly sure that Doyle, still high from their narrow escape and his brief, illicit flight, would be very easily persuaded.

But they still had several miles left until they reached the port, and it was already getting dark. He kept his hands to himself while Doyle reluctantly bent down and scooped up the harness.

Bodie noticed for the first time how awkwardly Doyle had to fold his wings to fit the harness over them. It couldn't be comfortable--and this was how Doyle went around all the time?

"You could leave the harness off until we get closer to town," Bodie suggested. It was purely for Doyle's own comfort, of course, and not for the hour or two of uninterrupted leering that Bodie would reap in the process.

But Doyle shook his head. "Someone might pass by; I can't risk it. And I don't want to get used to it..."

_Because that would make it worse to hide them again_, Bodie concluded. But he couldn't help being disappointed as Doyle pulled the shirt back on and buttoned it.

They had gone six miles at least when Doyle spoke again. They were just over a mile from the edge of town, and the sky was lit only by the distant blue glow of the secondary star.

"You could have sold me out, you know," Doyle said.

"What?"

"I _was_ the one who hit Jensen. You could have traded me for a pass off-world; I don't think even Kell would turn up his nose at my bounty price."

Bodie swung round in front of him, stopping Doyle with a glare. "I'm not in the habit of feeding my partners to petty crime lords."

"There was nothing petty about the reception committee he sent out for us."

"It doesn't matter. Petty or not, I was never thinking about selling you to Kell for a bit of goodwill."

"All right, I'm sorry," Doyle said lightly. "I appreciate it."

Bodie backed off, considering the matter settled, but there was a tiny smile on Doyle's face.

"Partners?" he asked.

Bodie backtracked, not wanting Doyle to feel trapped. "Well, we did sort of get ourselves into this mess together. Made sense that we should get out of it the same way."

Doyle gave him a measuring look. "Fair enough," he said at last.

Even the secondary star was setting by the time they reached the spaceport, leaving Charloss Beta in the only true twilight it ever had. But neither of them was in a state to appreciate it as they checked the hull for explosives and, finding none, trudged up the ramp into the ship.

Bodie took them up into orbit automatically, hardly appreciating the view of the pinpricked black of space. He engaged the Leap Drive and then leaned back in his chair, a motion that was only slightly more controlled than a boneless slump of exhaustion. "Remind me to run a charge through the hull next time we jump," he said. "I want to fry any trackers they might have put on us."

Doyle nodded, then yawned. "It's been a bloody long day."

"But we did get paid," Bodie reminded him with a hint of amusement.

"Fifteen thousand," Doyle said thoughtfully. "Although you said you were set on twenty."

"He didn't have twenty," Bodie countered, shaking his head. "Might have been able to put it together if he pawned his skimmer, but I didn't mean that starving-artist bit _literally_."

Doyle chuckled. "You're not as hard as you make yourself out to be, are you?"

Bodie grinned at him. "Oh, angelfish, you have no idea..."

"Where to, now?" Doyle said, ignoring the innuendo.

"Thalion. We've been such good lads, not getting murdered by Kell, that I think we deserve a treat, don't you?"

***

The Thalion landing was the smoothest Bodie had yet managed since he'd bought the Capri. The thrusters were in perfect tune; the hydraulics behaved themselves. Doyle knew what he was doing, that was certain.

So it was with a certain twinge of regret that he programmed a credit chip with Doyle's share of their profit. Bodie found him sealing up his rucksack, the tiny cabin bare and the bed neatly made.

"Here." He flipped the chip in Doyle's direction, and Doyle plucked it easily out of the air. "That's what's owed to you, plus a bit extra for playing art critic."

Doyle tucked the chip away without bothering to confirm the amount on it. He turned towards the ramp.

"Look," Bodie said hesitantly. "This is your best chance to find something else--another job, another transport. Thal's a busy enough city, and the outlying farms can always use help. You could make a good start with what's on that chip. But if you're not in a hurry to rush off, you could stick around. Capri's running better than she has in years, and if we haven't killed each other yet we're not likely to." He made a face. "I'm not any good at maudlin farewells. If you want to stay, there's a place for you here. Otherwise...fair skies, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Go get yourself a drink, think it over if you want. I'm not going anywhere for a day, at least."

Doyle raised one hand in farewell and strolled down the ramp into the muggy early-evening bustle of the spaceport.

***

Doyle bought himself a drink at a pub outside the port and nearly choked on it when he asked the barman what the chip's balance was. A _bit extra_? It was well over half of the fifteen thousand they'd made on Charloss. Bodie had shorted himself, and Doyle would wring the bastard's neck for him when he got back.

Because he was going back, wasn't he? It had never really been a question. Bodie had called them partners when they were hiking back from Kell's hideout, and Doyle had no intention of leaving unless Bodie wanted him to go. Of course, he might make Bodie sweat about it--wait until dawn, then show up with an armload of the port's best produce and make up a massive breakfast for the both of them before he thrashed Bodie to within an inch of his life for putting all that extra money on the chip.

He knew, though, that it wasn't really safe for him to get comfortable like this. Sooner or later he'd begin to let his guard down, to stop seeing Keepers and bounty hunters in every shadow, and then...

A cool female voice spoke from beside him, pulling him from his thoughts. "You've been running for a long time, Ray."

It was like he'd conjured trouble out of thin air. He turned to see a fair-haired Angeline standing beside him, her wings folded neatly behind her. His heart sank. "Hello, Alea."

"You will address me as _Keeper_," she said, firm but almost apologetic. "You can hide your wings if you want, but we always know our own, don't we?"

"I suppose we do." Alea had always been an exemplary Keeper, unyielding and incorruptible. Even the credit chip in his pocket wouldn't tempt her, and there was enough on it to bribe half a dozen planetary officials on a rich world. Bodie had given him enough money to go just about anywhere.

Bodie. Bodie would think he'd just left, walked away into the spaceport and hitched a ride with someone else. He'd never consider that Doyle might have been taken. The idea of it, of Bodie assuming that Doyle had abandoned him, hurt almost as much as being caught.

He knew he couldn't beg or buy his way out of this, but if he could appeal to her sense of justice he might manage to escape. "Alea...Keeper, please. You out of all of us should understand what I did. _Why_ I did it. If you had caught him, you'd have done the same."

"No. We have to be subject to the laws we defend, or we're no more than vigilantes," she said flatly.

So he was going to have to fight his way out. He could probably get the better of Alea, but the price for striking a Keeper, on top of the Vengeance...well, what was a death sentence on top of exile? He'd not be able to go back to Bodie after this--he wouldn't put him in that kind of danger--but at least then he might have a chance to explain.

Alea reached out and laid her hand on Doyle's arm. "I bind you, Raymond Doyle, in the name of the Seven Cities, by the authority of the..."

Those were _his_ words, or they had been once. The shock of hearing them directed at him froze him in place, and he stood stricken, waiting for her to finish.

"Will you submit to this authority?"

Ah, those were the last words of the speech, the bit that determined whether the subject would surrender or be bound physically as well as in name. Doyle raised his head, and Alea's hand fell to the shining pair of binders clipped to her belt.

"Excuse me," someone drawled from behind him. "But I'm going to have to object to you laying hands on my bounty." Bodie's arm came down heavily, possessively, across Doyle's shoulders.

"_Your_ bounty?" Alea asked, her pale eyes narrowing.

"Yeah. Thanks for keeping an eye on him while I was in the loo--I didn't think he'd be stupid enough to try running off, but it's nice to know you were watching."

"You have Bound this man to your authority?"

"Oh, I've bound him in a _dozen_ ways. Isn't that right, angelfish?" he leered. "Haven't got round to the collar yet--I'm having it made special for him."

Doyle kept silent, glaring his objection to the entire proceedings.

"Then allow me to purchase his price from you," Alea argued. "You will be paid in full, and I will return him to our homeworld for judgment."

"Well..." Bodie paused, apparently to think it over. "Don't know if I'm quite ready to part with him yet. See, you might not know it from the way he's acting now, but he's actually very good company." He reached out and traced his thumb along Doyle's jaw for effect. "I'll bring him to your Seven Cities, but I'll take my own path there. The _scenic_ route, if you will."

Something like pity crossed Alea's expression, and it was as though Doyle could read her mind--_how far he has fallen_. But there was no pity in her voice when she spoke. "Very well. See to it that you do not forget to render him to his justice."

"Right. Ta very much," Bodie said, putting as much dismissal and condescension into the words as he could. Alea turned and vanished into the crowd, her folded wings parting the haze of smoke.

Bodie squeezed Doyle's shoulder. "I can't let you out of my sight for a _second_, can I? Come on, let's get out of here."

They chose a different door from the one Alea had taken. A few blocks away from the pub, Bodie let his arm slide away from Doyle's shoulders.

Doyle turned on him. "So has that been the plan all along? Seduce me and then turn me over for the bounty?"

"_No_! Well, not the bounty part, at least. I'd be lying to say I wouldn't enjoy taking you to bed. But I was never, ever planning to turn you in. I wouldn't give you to Kell--why would you think I'd give you to the Angeline?"

"Why not? You must have looked up the bounty when I told you I was a Fallen. You know what I'm worth to them."

Bodie shook his head. "I told you before. I'm not in the habit of selling out my partners, regardless of the price."

Doyle looked away, abruptly ashamed of the conclusions he'd jumped to. "Sorry. Thank you for intervening. I owe you."

Bodie waved away the thanks. "I just don't know what you were thinking, standing there gaping like something small and fuzzy in the glare of landing lights. You're better than that, Ray. You'd have to be, to have made a Keeper."

"It was being on the other side of a Keeper's Bond that surprised me. I spent so long saying those words, and having them turned on me..." He sighed. "Never thought I'd come to be hunted by my own."

Bodie sighed. "Join the club, angelfish." They walked on in silence, the cool night air welcome after the heat and crowd of the pub.

"Why were you there?" Doyle asked.

"Wanted a drink, didn't I? And lucky for you," he added, too lightly.

"So you've drunk the whole of your liquor cabinet dry already, have you? What you've got is a hundred times better than anything they serve in there."

Bodie jammed his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "All right, I give up. I was going to buy you a drink, try and convince you to stick around for a while."

"Wouldn't have helped."

"No?" He tried not to look disappointed, but Doyle could see it anyway.

"I'd made up my mind to come back before I hit the bottom of the ramp."

Bodie's grin could have served to light a cruiser's landing. "You sneaky little sod, you could have _told_ me!"

"I realised that--right about the moment that Alea laid the Bond on me. Figured you'd just assume I found passage elsewhere, and never give it a second thought."

"I'd have given it thought," Bodie said sharply.

"I know that now."

They walked on for a moment in quiet until Bodie spoke again. "That Keeper--you said her name was Alea?"

"Yes. We were friends, once."

"She was cold."

Doyle shook his head. "She believes that taking me in is the right thing to do. Even though..."

"What?"

"She was in love with my partner. Engaged to be married. I thought maybe she'd understand why I went after the man who killed him. But no, she's a Keeper through and through."

"Compassion isn't a common trait in your people, is it?"

"Devotion to duty is prized more. Alea's a better Keeper than I am, a better Angeline."

Bodie snorted. "Of the Angeline I've met so far, I think a bit more of you."

"Yeah, but you're Earthbou-- _human_. Your opinion doesn't count," Doyle explained with a faint smile as they entered the docking bay.

"Not even to you?" Bodie replied, mock-wounded.

Doyle rolled his eyes. "You know better than that."

Bodie keyed down the Capri's ramp. "Home, sweet home."

"Yeah," Doyle said. "I'm sorry I ruined whatever plans you had here."

"Don't be. I'd rather have you with me than..." He trailed off awkwardly. "We'll find somewhere else to relax. Maybe someplace with a seashore. A private one, so you wouldn't have to worry about anybody seeing...you know. Give you a chance to stretch your wings."

"I think I'd like that."

Bodie's thoughts were almost visible on his face--he would like it, too. Very much. "I'll see what I can do," he promised. "In the meantime, I'll queue us up for a morning departure. Go get some sleep, yeah?"

Doyle sighed. "Don't think I can sleep after all that. But you should."

Bodie hesitated. "If you want company, you could..."

"Could what?"

"Join me," he said. "Just to sleep."

"I can't. I want to check the lift-off thrusters again, before we leave. But thanks," he added.

Bodie shrugged. "Whatever you like, angelfish." Doyle watched him vanish into his cabin, and reluctantly he turned back and headed for the engine room.

***

Bodie spent exactly ten minutes trying to sleep, knowing it was futile. He gave up and went back to the cockpit, waiting for clearance to lift off. A couple of hours passed, and Bodie hadn't heard a sound from aft. He began to wonder if Doyle hadn't changed his mind after all and ducked down the ramp when he wasn't looking. But a quick paranoid glance revealed that his things were still in his bunk, and Bodie finally found him brooding over a cup of tea in the galley.

Doyle looked up and offered a wry smile. "I was going to go fetch us some breakfast, but..."

"...your friend might not be the only Keeper out there," Bodie finished. "I've been thinking about that, about how we can make sure that nobody else is going to try to snatch you."

"And how do you propose to do that? If I can't leave the ship on my own, I might as well be your bloody bounty."

"I know. And I was thinking that we could mark you as Bound."

Doyle winced, and Bodie understood his revulsion. A bounty collar marked a person as the property of his hunter until such time as the hunter deigned to turn him in for his bounty. It implied slavery of all sorts, physical and sexual and anything else the hunter desired. And somehow the worst part of it all was that it was voluntary. A person had to _agree_ to be Bound, and no one would ever do so unless the punishment he would face on his wanted world was worse than anything the hunter could do to him.

"Not for real, of course," Bodie said, watching his expression change from disgust to bitterness to acceptance. "We won't register you or anything. I still have no intention of turning you over to what your people call justice, and none of the...other conditions would apply. Might have to do a bit of play-acting in public, but the point is, just the sight of the collar should be enough to keep people from laying hands on you. Hunters don't respect much, but we know better than to steal another's bounty."

Doyle sighed. "All right, then."

"I'll be right back." Bodie left the galley and rummaged in his cabin, trying to forget the uneasy look on Doyle's face. There was a fine line between playing Bound and being Bound--once the collar was on him, Doyle would have only Bodie's word that Bodie wouldn't sell him right to the Angeline. No police force in the galaxy would take the word of a Bound over his hunter.

Bodie found what he was looking for and returned to the galley. He tossed the coil of leather at Doyle, who caught it.

"It's not real," Bodie promised. "Just leather and silver. The catch looks as though it needs a key, but it doesn't."

Doyle ran his hands along the narrow band. "A false collar? Where would you get one of those, and why bother with it?"

"That's not any of your business," Bodie snapped, feeling a flush rise in his face.

For the first time all evening, Doyle's expression brightened, and he laughed. "Kinky bastard." He fastened the collar around his neck, the catch shining at his throat. Some hunters had collars made that would shock a prisoner if he disobeyed, and others liked chains or leashes attached, but Bodie had always thought that unnecessarily cruel, even for a false collar. Plain brown leather was more than enough. Anyway, it was the lock that was important, that set a bounty collar apart from the purely recreational sort.

Doyle fumbled with the collar's catch. He released it by sliding his thumb along the top of the lock, then fastened it again. "How does it look?" he asked sarcastically.

It was just as well that he hadn't been expecting an answer, because Bodie wasn't sure he was capable of speech.

"Might as well see how well it works--I'll go down and get that breakfast I promised you. I should be back soon enough."

"And if you're not, I'll have words with that Keeper," Bodie muttered. Still, he couldn't help feeling a vague apprehension as the ramp slid down and Doyle disappeared again into the spaceport.

Bodie started the flight checks just after dawn, and true to his word Doyle appeared in the galley soon after, his arms laden with food he'd picked up at the market. The gathering tension abruptly faded from Bodie, leaving his shoulders aching. He called out to warn Doyle before lift-off, but Doyle now appeared to trust the Capri enough that he didn't bother to come up to the cockpit and strap in.

Then again, he ought to trust it. He knew the ship better than Bodie did by now. Bodie set a course with only a vague destination in mind--a world with a nice sea-side--and went down to the galley to see about breakfast.

Doyle was fussing with the cold-storage, the meal apparently forgotten on the cook-top. The refrigeration had a tendency to fail, which Bodie rarely noticed until everything in storage had melted or gone off. Doyle seemed to have caught it mid-failure, and was half-buried in the cold-storage unit, prodding a set of wires. Bodie wondered how exactly he'd kept the Capri flying without Doyle around, and how he'd manage when Doyle inevitably moved on.

The thought bothered him more than he liked. "Need a hand?" he asked.

"Nah, I've just got it," Doyle said, emerging from the depths of the cold-storage with a grin. He nodded towards the galley table. "Sit," he said.

Bodie dropped into a chair. The bounty collar lay abandoned on the edge of the table--Doyle had obviously removed it the instant he'd returned to the ship, and Bodie couldn't blame him. They'd just have to be careful to remember it whenever they left the ship. He hated the idea of it as much as Doyle--it felt like putting a leash on a pet--but if it was the only way to keep Doyle safe, then they'd have to do it.

Doyle caught him looking at the collar and scooped it up to lay it aside. In its place he set down a platter piled high with sweet rolls and local fruits, and a bit of fried meat that turned out, on a tentative bite, to be delicious.

"I didn't know you could cook," Bodie said.

"You didn't ask, did you?"

"No, I guess not."

"I'll remember to add that to my list of skills, next time I'm hiring on with someone." He looked away after he'd said it, and the words seemed to linger in the air. Next time.

Bodie finished his portion of the meal in silence while Doyle picked at his half. Of course it wasn't a permanent arrangement, Doyle being here. He'd made that clear plenty of times over the last few weeks. But Bodie had got used to having him around. Oh, he was attracted to Doyle, and he hadn't exactly tried to hide it, but beyond that, Bodie simply _liked_ him. He was good company, a good mechanic, and a level head in a tight spot. They worked well together, covered each other's weaknesses.

Bodie would miss him like hell when he left.

"Are you all right?" Doyle asked.

Bodie blinked and focused on him. "Hm? Yeah." How long had Doyle been watching him?

"Are you sure? When was the last time you really slept?"

Bodie tried to remember. "I had a nap between Charloss and Thalion."

"That's got to be forty standard hours ago."

"Well, I've been a bit busy with catching forgers, being kidnapped by crime lords, and rescuing my partner from bounty hunters."

"It was only _one_ crime lord," Doyle said.

"And one bounty hunter--but one's enough, isn't it?"

"More than. Go on and get some sleep."

Bodie frowned. "But we've just had breakfast."

"Call it supper, then. Go to bed. I'll clean up here."

"But you cooked, that's not fair."

"And _you're_ the one who's meant to be flying this thing. Nobody trusts an insomniac captain."

Bodie rolled his eyes and stole another sweet roll from the plate. "Good night, then," he said wryly. "Or good morning."

Doyle waved him off and started clearing the dishes.

***

Bodie hadn't wanted to admit that he was tired, but he slept for nearly half a day and hardly stirred. When he finally woke, the ship was quiet, which meant that Doyle was probably asleep himself. Bodie took a long, hot shower and helped himself to a bit left over from breakfast before heading back up to the cockpit to check their course.

They were two days away from Pellia--he had acquaintances there, a favour or two he could exchange for a nice, private summer spot by the sea. They could spend a few days, maybe a week...and who knew what might happen in a week?

Bodie watched the stars blank and shift with the Leap Drive, too used to it now to be really uneasy with the void.

A tiny flash caught his eye--the com was blinking with a message. He flicked it on and listened to the recording that had been left. The good mood of the morning slowly evaporated, leaving a vague apprehension in its wake.

He'd been offered a job, a personal request. It promised good pay, and relatively small risk, but the job was one that would be sure to make his passenger object. To turn down good work simply because Doyle didn't approve would set a rotten precedent, and would force him to consider his respect for his 'partner' a bit too closely. Morals were all well and good, until they left you too poor to eat or to keep your ship in the air.

Perhaps Doyle wouldn't object too strongly. It wouldn't do any harm to ask what he thought before he replied to the call, would it? Bodie walked down the corridor to Doyle's cabin. The door was open, so he tapped on the frame.

"Ray?"

Doyle was standing in the middle of the room, holding something in his hands. The look in his eyes was distant, melancholy.

Bodie had seen that expression before, but only when Doyle was talking about his past. It wasn't hard to make the connection. "I thought you said you sold everything."

Doyle started, reflexively going to hide the small figurine. He sighed and seemed to force himself to relax. "I did--everything except this." He held out his hand and let Bodie take the little toy soldier. "Belonged to my little brother, when we were kids."

Bodie didn't even have to look at him to know the reason for the past tense. Doyle had only mentioned a brother once before, when they'd first met, and even then Bodie had been able to hear the grief in his voice. "What happened to him?"

Doyle's lips curved in a sad smile. "He was a Keeper."

_Teams of two_. "Oh hell, Ray." Bodie stared down at the winged soldier. The paint was nearly worn away, traces of a blue and gold uniform almost gone. Abruptly aware of how important the figurine was to Doyle, he handed it back. If he'd ever blamed Doyle for killing his partner's murderer, he certainly didn't anymore.

Doyle set the soldier back on the table. "It's an antique, you know. Worth a bit, if you can find legitimate collector. But I couldn't sell--"

"No, of course not."

Doyle looked up, shaking himself out of his reverie. "Sorry. What did you come in to say?"

"Oh." Bodie rubbed at the back of his neck. This was especially poor timing, but it couldn't wait. "Came to tell you that I've got a job offer."

"Congratulations. Where are we headed?"

"Nowhere, yet." He hesitated, and Doyle looked up patiently. Bodie sighed. "I wanted to be clear with you, before we set a course. This job, it's a sniper role, out on Kamton."

Doyle's eyes narrowed. "Assassination?"

"Not of anyone who'd be missed. Criminals fighting criminals--no great loss to interstellar society."

"Even criminals can have families."

"So you don't approve of the job?"

"No, I don't. Killing for pay..." Doyle shook his head. "Don't you worry about becoming just like them?"

"Maybe I already am."

"I don't believe that."

Bugger Doyle and his tireless idealism. "What's the difference? Motive? You killed for vengeance, I kill for pay, some people kill for the thrill of it. Does it matter?"

Doyle turned away.

Bodie winced--to say something like that, immediately after he'd learned _why_ Doyle had done what he had, was cruel. "I didn't mean it that way. I just meant--the end's the same, right?"

"I suppose so." He looked up. "Are you going to take the job?"

"Are you going to leave if I do?" Bodie countered.

Doyle was silent for a long moment. "No. But I won't have any part of it."

"I wouldn't ask you to."

"But if you happened to want to get off-planet quickly, I could make sure the ship was ready to go."

It was the nearest thing to involvement that he could offer, and Bodie appreciated the gesture. "Might not be a bad idea," he said. "Thanks."

***

It took three days to reach Kamton. They deliberately avoided talking about the job, which caused most of their conversations to trail off into silence when they came too close to the subject. It was a frustrating, quiet trip, and Bodie was glad when it was over.

They set down with plenty of time to spare. Bodie finally had no choice but to bring up the job, no matter how much it bothered Doyle to hear about it. "I've got eight hours," he said. "I'm going to take a walk, get an idea of the area where I'm going to be...working. You don't have to come with me."

Doyle shrugged. "I might as well. If I stay on-board much longer, there won't be anything left to fix."

_And no reason for you to stay_. "All right, then." Bodie lowered the ramp, but Doyle paused at the top and swore.

"Wait." He slipped into the galley and retrieved the bounty collar from the shelf where it had lain, ignored, for the entire trip. "Almost forgot," he said bitterly.

Bodie _had_ forgotten, but he wasn't about to admit it. "You really hate this, don't you?"

Doyle fastened the collar. "It's barbaric."

"It's also consensual," Bodie countered. "The Bound can end the contract at any time."

"Yeah, to face death or worse from the people who put out the bounty."

"So the best solution would be not to get a bounty put out on you in the first place."

"You're not helping," Doyle said with a glare.

Bodie ruffled Doyle's curls. "I know. It looks nice on you, though," he said teasingly.

"Bugger off," he muttered, but he almost smiled as he said it.

The site was an unassuming building on the outskirts of a small city. It was three storeys high with a dusty brick face that would make climbing to the roof the easiest part of the job.

"This is it," Bodie said quietly, not sure how much Doyle wanted to know. "There's a skylight that should give me a good vantage point."

"Are you sure they'll be on the top floor?"

"That's what the briefing said. If the plan changes and I have to get inside, I'll improvise."

"I don't like the sound of that."

"Neither do I," Bodie said.

"Can't we get in to take a look around?"

Bodie shook his head. "I might be recognised when I come back later."

"_You_ might," Doyle said slowly. "But I won't be coming back, will I? Go sit in the café across the street, and I'll meet you there in ten minutes." Without waiting for Bodie to protest, he walked off towards the building.

Bodie didn't shout after him; the last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to the pair of them. He watched Doyle approach the two guards by the front door and then, impossibly, he saw them step aside and let him walk in.

Bodie bought a drink at the café and sat at a table outside, waiting for Doyle to reappear.

Ten minutes later, he did, apparently no worse for his excursion. He sat down and stole a sip from Bodie's glass.

"What did you tell them?" Bodie asked.

"That my hunter had ordered me to meet him inside. They obviously didn't want to think about it too much, so they just let me in."

"Did anyone see you?"

"No. The first two floors are mostly open, but I think you might be able to find a place to work. I can sketch the layout of the place when we get back."

"You won't forget?"

"Trust me."

"I thought you didn't want to get involved," Bodie said.

Doyle looked past him. "I didn't. But I'd rather you came back alive."

"Thanks." Bodie glanced around the street and found people averting their eyes suddenly, as though they had been caught staring. "People are looking at us," he murmured. "That makes me nervous."

"Of course they're looking. You're a hunter and I'm Bound. They're probably all wondering how that distinction plays out in private."

"You think so?"

"I bet two-thirds of them are thinking about you fucking me," Doyle said flatly.

"Now, now," Bodie admonished. "The Bound does whatever his hunter asks--so maybe I tell _you_ to fuck _me_."

"How scandalous," Doyle said with a wry smile.

Bodie stood up. "Come on. We've got time to pick up some supplies. Some fresh food, maybe." They had been eating defrosted meals for the last two days, and after Doyle's breakfast on Thalion it all tasted bland.

"Expecting me to cook, are you?"

"Not if you don't want," Bodie said. "Just might be a nice change from the frozen stuff."

"All right, then. Show me what you like, and I'll put something together."

Bodie bit his tongue and managed not to make a lewd remark, but it was a near thing.

They wandered through the open-air market, stopping every now and then to get a closer look at the wares. They had the makings of a very good meal when Bodie noticed that the fruit-seller was staring thoughtfully at Doyle. Bodie couldn't blame her for looking, but he didn't like the suspicious glint in her expression--like someone trying to place a face she'd seen before. Maybe she did a bit of bounty work on the side; it wasn't unheard of.

Bodie stepped closer and let his hand rest possessively on Doyle's hip. As soon as he could manage it discreetly, Doyle trod on Bodie's foot and stepped away.

"You might have a thought for our cover," Bodie said when they moved on.

"And _you_ might do well to remember that it's nothing more than that," Doyle snapped.

"How could I forget, darling?" Bodie asked, poison-sweet. "When you're constantly reminding me of it?"

"I wouldn't keep reminding you if you'd stop trying to take advantage of the situation."

"I'm not taking advantage!"

"So you _don't_ enjoy putting your hands on me, when I can't tell you to stop without breaking our cover?"

"I--"

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Doyle turned away and started walking.

"Doyle!"

"Go to hell, Bodie," he said over his shoulder.

Well, that was just bloody fantastic. Bodie's own Bounty, walking away from him into a crowded marketplace. He couldn't let him go, and he couldn't run after him, either. Doyle was the one who was supposed to obey him--in public, at least. If he wouldn't do that, then this whole thing was going to blow up in their faces.

"Come back here, or I'll turn you in," he said flatly.

Doyle took one step more. He hesitated, then turned and with a look of utmost loathing made his way back to Bodie.

There would be hell to pay later, but at least his sullen look was perfectly in-character.

Bodie handed him the packages they'd bought, knowing that Doyle would hate him for it. "Now you can go back to the ship," he said coldly.

Doyle looked like he was trying to decide between keeping cover and punching him. The cover won out, though, and he turned away to vanish into the crowd.

Bodie had planned to go back to the ship and check over his kit for the night's job, but he thought it might be best to leave Doyle alone for an hour or so. Maybe two.

He circled the market again, barely noticing the wares in the brightly-coloured booths. He had just decided to take his chances and go back to the Capri when a tool-kit in the last merchant's stall caught his eye. Doyle had been complaining about his own kit--the spanner was good for all sorts of purposes, but some of the other tools were starting to wear out.

He bought the set and the merchant, who had apparently seen the whole argument, handed over the tools. "If your bounty gives you so much trouble, why don't you turn him in and be done with it?"

Bodie favoured him with a wicked and entirely false grin. "I let him act up because, between you and me, I think he enjoys what happens after. And so do I."

The merchant shook his head. "Just take care you don't get a mouthful of engine coolant one day when he mixes you a drink."

"I'll be careful. Thanks."

Bodie took his time walking back to the ship. He listened carefully at the top of the ramp, but he heard nothing. He hoped that Doyle hadn't gone and wandered off somewhere instead of coming back.

He owed Doyle an apology for the scene at the market, but it wasn't going to be a pleasant scene and he wasn't exactly looking forward to it. He set the new tool-kit and a spare 'beam gun in a cupboard in the galley and went to look for Doyle.

Bodie almost collided with him as Doyle left the cockpit. His face was expressionless; Bodie wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

Doyle nodded towards the control panel, where a data chip lay. "Sketches of the lower floors," he said.

"Thanks." Bodie slid the chip into the handheld and started checking access points, bottlenecks, potential cover spots. The ground floor would be easy enough, even if they posted guards on the windows. The first floor might pose a bigger problem, especially if the meeting was in the southwest corner...

Behind him, Doyle sighed. "Shall I go to my bunk now, or would you like a pot of tea, milord?"

"Mm? Yeah, tea'd be nice," Bodie said absently, trying to sort out an escape route. He barely noticed the door hiss shut behind Doyle.

***

At first, he thought that something had gone wrong in the engine room. The thunks and clanks issuing from somewhere aft were definitely _not_ part of the normal sounds of the Capri, and that worried him. If the Leap Drive went out on their next trip, it would leave them drifting, and drifting was just below 'explosive decompression' on a list of pilots' worst nightmares.

He was five steps into the corridor when he realised that the noises weren't coming from the engine room, but from the galley. Doyle was slamming things about in what sounded like a nice tidy rage.

Of course he would still be upset about the mess this afternoon. Bodie sighed and hovered in the galley doorway, watching Doyle putter around with a stony expression on his face.

He looked up. "Your tea's almost ready," he said coldly. "I'm afraid I can't make the water heat any faster."

Right, the tea. Well, there was no reason for Doyle to be upset about the tea, was there? After all, he'd offered to make a pot--

Bodie suddenly recalled exactly _how_ the offer had been phrased, and he winced. "Sorry. I wasn't thinking, I just heard you offer the tea... I didn't even realise you were being sarcastic."

"Starting to really fit into this role of master, aren't you?"

"_Doyle_."

"Never mind." He pulled two teacups out of the cupboard and slapped them onto the table with a noise that made Bodie cringe inwardly. Of course, any dishes that could stand the knocking about they got on a spaceship could handle whatever Doyle could do to them. Probably.

"Why'd you make the tea, then?"

Doyle looked up at him, eyebrow raised.

"The offer was sarcastic--so why'd you go on and make the tea? Or do you just like slamming cupboard doors that much?"

Doyle shrugged. "Throwing tools around the engine room would probably just break something else on this wreck, and I'd have to fix _that_, too."

"Look, I'm sorry. About the tea, and about this afternoon, too," Bodie said. "But if I'd run after you, or if I'd let you go, it would have blown our cover."

"I know that," he said quietly.

"And since you asked me earlier, I _don't_ like having to put on an act. The fruit seller in the market was looking at you like she recognised you. I suppose I wanted to make it clear that your bounty was spoken for."

"You made it clear, all right," Doyle said bitterly.

"I didn't mean to upset you. Hell, when it comes to bounty collars, I'd sooner...well. I'd rather it was the other way around, anyway." Bodie's face warmed.

Doyle looked at him in surprise and dawning understanding. "Hence the false collar."

"Yeah."

"Never thought it would be so useful, did you?"

"Not exactly, no." Bodie cast around desperately for a change of subject. "Should I have the tea tested for poison, then?"

Doyle snatched the teacup away from him and took a long slurp. "Happy now?" He handed the cup back.

"Now you've drunk half of it? Yeah, I suppose."

Doyle finished his own cup and went to leave the galley, but Bodie stopped him.

"Wait. There's something else." He laid the new tool-kit on the table.

Doyle opened the case and stared at the contents. "What's this?"

"An apology," Bodie said.

"Bodie, you can't just _buy_ my forgiveness."

"I know that. I just thought you could use a tool-kit that wasn't held together with twine and cheap adhesive."

"The adhesive is _not_ cheap," Doyle said defensively. "If I'd needed a tool-kit, I could have bought one myself. I have more than enough, after Charloss."

"You could have, but you didn't. Anyway, it's in my best interests, too. Can't expect you to repair a ship if you haven't got the tools."

Doyle eyed him suspiciously. "And?" he asked.

Bodie sighed. "_And_ I thought it might make up for the fact that I'm also giving you this." He held out the 'beam gun, and Doyle opened his mouth to protest.

"I know," Bodie said, forestalling the argument. "I know you don't like it, and I'm not even asking you to _carry_ the damned thing, let alone use it. But keep it handy, will you? If I muck this up and someone comes after you, it'll take more than a well-aimed spanner to fix things."

"You think that's likely?"

"Me screwing up the job, or someone coming after you?"

"Either--both."

"Always a chance. But I'm pretty good at what I do."

"Oh, yeah?"

Bodie grinned. "Maybe someday I'll even show you, angelfish."

"Sure," Doyle said, reluctantly scooping up the 'beam gun. "Maybe someday." He left the galley without another word, and Bodie went to fetch his kit from the cabin. He had a couple of hours left to make sure everything was ready for the job.

He was almost finished when Doyle's shadow darkened the doorway again. Bodie could just about imagine what was going through Doyle's mind, watching him there with a disassembled 'beam rifle and two slugthrowers laid out in front of him. He didn't make any move to enter the galley, so Bodie started putting the rifle back together. He would need to be going soon; he wanted to get into position well before the target arrived. Whatever Doyle wanted to talk about, it could wait.

"Who are you killing tonight?" Doyle asked.

Oh, wonderful. Bodie looked up at him. "Does it matter?"

"How could it _not_ matter?"

"To you, I mean. It's my job, not yours, so why let it bother you?"

Doyle shook his head. "I'll never understand you Earthbound," he said sadly, and Bodie's temper boiled over.

"_Stop_ calling me 'Earthbound.' If you think so little of us, why did you even sign on with me?"

"I don't remember signing anything," Doyle said evenly.

"You know what I mean. There were dozens of other people in the spaceport. Why me?"

"I liked your ship."

"Is that a euphemism?"

Doyle sighed. "And I wasn't lying about those thrusters. You would have got yourself killed if you hadn't had them fixed."

"Didn't mean it had to be you that fixed them."

"I didn't fancy leaving the job to some idiot Earth-- some idiot mechanic who doesn't know how to deal with anything that didn't come off the local line."

"But why did you even _care_?" Bodie snapped.

"Wasn't keen on the thought of you smearing yourself all over your next port, that's all."

"What would it matter to you?"

"Old habits, I suppose. Protector of the peace, that sort of thing."

"And spaceport explosions are a disturbance of the peace," Bodie said flatly. He rolled up the kit and sealed it. "No other reason than that, eh?"

"None at all," Doyle said, his voice cold.

Bodie unclenched his jaw with effort. "If you have to leave the ship for anything, don't forget the collar. If somebody picked you up while I was gone, I'd be annoyed."

"Sure you would. Hadn't you better be going, then? Wouldn't want to be late for your murder."

"I don't need a bloody keeper, Doyle," Bodie snarled. He swung the kit over his shoulder and stomped down the ramp without another word.

***

Bodie fumed most of the way to the site, but his anger faded as soon as he got into position. Someone had finally realised that the skylight on the top floor was an unnecessary risk, and they had relocated to the floor below--the most inconvenient of the three options.

Silently thanking Doyle for the sketched plans, Bodie dealt with the guards--non-fatally, since he wasn't being paid to kill anyone but the target--and made his way up the back staircase. One shot was all it took, and he was back down the stairs and out of the building before the remaining guards could scramble after him. He climbed up to the roof and waited there while the flurry of shouts and skimmers faded away, then he dumped the disassembled rifle into his kit bag and made his way back to the Capri's berth in the spaceport.

He keyed the ramp down and charged up it, already starting for the cockpit. "Oi, Ray, let's go!"

No answer. If Doyle had taken a nap, or had dozed off over a cup of tea, Bodie was never, ever going to let him forget it, even if he did owe Doyle one for drawing up the plans. But the door to his cabin was open, and the cabin itself was empty. So was the galley when Bodie passed. Engine room, then--last-minute modifications before they took off.

Bodie swung into the engine room and froze in the doorway. Doyle was slumped on the floor, his hands tied to a pipe above his head. His lip was split, and a bruise was already shadowing his cheek.

The kit bag clattered to the deckplates; Bodie was across the room and kneeling beside Doyle before he consciously thought about it. "Ray! What the hell happened to you?"

Doyle stirred at the sound of his voice. He grimaced. "I don't think your friend Jenny is very happy with us." His voice was blurred by his swollen lip.

"No," Jensen said from the doorway. "He really isn't."

Bodie froze.

"Stand up and turn around, very slowly. Keep your hands away from your body."

Jensen scooped up Bodie's kit bag, then stepped up behind him and plucked the holdout slugthrower from Bodie's holster. "The knife in your boot. Bend down, very slowly, and hand it to me--sheath and all. If I see that blade, I'll shoot you where you stand."

Bodie did as he was told, and Jensen tucked the sheathed knife into his belt.

"What are you going to do with us, Jensen?" Bodie asked, a bit too belligerent for someone held at gunpoint.

"_You_ are going to meet with an unfortunate accident."

"Just tripped and fell out the airlock, huh?"

"That's about right. But first, I think I'll take your pretty bounty as _my_ pretty bounty, and I think you'll get to watch what I do with him." He gestured to an exposed pipe that ran about three feet from the floor. "Now sit down and hold up your hands."

"Why bother? You're going to kill me anyway."

Jensen shifted his aim. "Because if you don't," he said, "I'll kill _him_."

Bodie sat and let Jensen tie his hands to the pipe. He waited for an opening, a chance when the 'beam gun might waver, but there was never a point where he could be sure that a reflexive shot wouldn't hit Doyle.

Jensen admired his handiwork, then stood up. "All right. Now everybody sit tight and prepare for take-off." He left, powering down the lights as a bonus. The engine room, lit only by the vague multi-coloured glow of various status lights, fell silent.

"I never did remember to pulse the hull," Bodie said guiltily. "He must have been tracking us ever since Charloss. Are you all right?"

"Head hurts," Doyle muttered. "Bastard shorted out a sensor panel...was waiting for me at the bottom of the ramp." He laughed bitterly. "At least I remembered the collar."

"Did he try to--" Bodie's voice caught. "He just hit you, right?"

"Yeah. Couple of times, when I said things he didn't like. He threatened me, but he...hasn't tried anything else."

Doyle's voice was tired, almost weak, and Bodie wondered just how hard Jensen had had hit him. His hands clenched into helpless fists, still tied to the pipe above him.

The thrusters hummed, and the Capri lifted off. They had time, then, but not much. Jensen wouldn't throw him out the airlock until they'd made a jump or two, at least.

Doyle usually left the tool-kit on the floor at the far end of the room. Bodie shifted and found that the rope had enough slack to slide along the length of pipe towards the tools. He didn't know what he was going to do once he got to the kit, but he was going to take things one step at a time.

A sharp edge on the pipe caught the back of his hand, and he felt blood sliding slowly down his arm. "_Shit_," he hissed.

Doyle started. "Bodie? Are you--?"

"I'm all right," he said. "Cut my hand on a sharp--" He laughed suddenly, the sound reverberating in the tight space. "I'm going to get us out of this, angelfish." And he wasn't even going to need the tool-kit. Bodie shifted his hands until the rough cord tying his hands was pressed against the sharp edge of the pipe. He worked the cord across the edge, feeling it fray slowly in his hands.

After at least three jumps and what felt like a minor eternity, the cord gave way, sending Bodie to the floor in an undignified heap. He clenched and unclenched his fists, forcing feeling back into his tingling hands. He felt around the floor until he bashed into the tool-kit and he dug out a tiny lamp. He switched it on, casting a dim blue glow across the engine room.

Doyle flinched at the sudden light, squinting across the room. "Your hand?"

"It's fine," Bodie said. "Felt worse in the dark." He scooped up a blade from the tool-kit and cut Doyle's bonds. "Listen, is Jensen alone?"

Doyle frowned. "I think so."

"Good. Look, Ray, I'm going out there, and I can't leave him to come after us again." Because if they left him alive, he would. And as for Kell... Well, they would just have to hope that Kell never found out what had happened to Jensen.

"I know," Doyle said softly.

"You stay here. I'm going after him."

"What? I'm not waiting here, I'm--" Doyle struggled to his feet, and Bodie gently pushed him back down.

"You can hardly _stand_, Ray. You stay here. If something goes wrong, you might be able to get the drop on Jenny yourself."

"But--"

"I will tie you up again if I have to."

Doyle sighed and sank back against the wall, and that alone was worrying. Doyle could have made half a dozen sarky comments to that line, but he didn't say anything at all.

Bodie kissed him quickly on the cheek and stood up.

"If you're not back in ten minutes..." Doyle threatened.

If Bodie wasn't back in ten minutes, it would be safe to say he wasn't going to be back at all. "I will be. Don't worry."

He heard Doyle try to call him back, but Bodie ignored him and slipped out of the engine room. He kept the tool-kit's tiny blade in his hand; it wouldn't do much against a 'beam gun, but it was better than hunting Jensen empty-handed. He wished Jensen hadn't taken his kit bag after he'd tied them up. There was another spare in the forward storage compartment, but Bodie swore that if they survived this mess he was going to start hiding the damned things all over the ship.

The cargo hold was empty, and so was the galley. He closed and locked each door as he passed, so that there was no way Jensen could sneak around behind him. He set an alarm on the galley door and continued up the corridor.

It was only three minutes into Bodie's allotted ten when he felt a whisper of air in a side passage and turned to find himself face-to-face with Jensen. The snub barrel of a 'beam gun prodded him in the ribs, and Jensen grinned over the rising whine of the gun--déjà vu.

'Beam guns didn't take long to charge; he had maybe two seconds before the shot. He swung with the blade and ducked back, knowing it wasn't going to be enough...

A 'beam bolt flashed, close enough that Bodie felt its heat against the side of his face. The shot caught Jensen in the throat, dropping him to the deckplates with a faint smell of singed flesh.

Bodie gaped at the body for a second, and then turned around to see Doyle leaning against the bulkhead, utterly expressionless, the 'beam gun Bodie had given him held rigid at his side. Bodie wondered absurdly where he'd been keeping it.

Doyle stared down at the body.

"I thought I told you to stay in the engine room," Bodie said tightly.

Doyle ignored him.

"Ray--"

He shook himself. "Quick jumps, you said. After we toss him out."

"Right." Bodie dragged Jensen's body back towards the airlock while Doyle stumbled up to the cockpit to plot their jumps.

The airlock cycled, and Bodie braced himself for the first jolt of the Leap Drive. Two jumps later, he finally let himself relax a bit. No pursuit.

And no Doyle, he discovered, in the cockpit. Bodie sent a charge through the hull--too late, but it wouldn't do to leave the tracker just _sitting_ there--and he paused in the galley to put the kettle on before venturing back into the engine room. Still no Doyle.

He went back up the corridor and found that the door of the loo was open. Doyle was standing there, leaning heavily against the sink, wiping the blood away from his split lip.

Doyle glanced up and saw Bodie's reflection in the tiny mirror.

"There's tea," Bodie offered.

Doyle nodded and followed Bodie back down the corridor to the galley.

Bodie poured them each a cup of tea and watched Doyle carefully as he sat down. He didn't seem dizzy or off-balance, which was good, but the way he had sounded at first, weak and tired and hurting...

And he _still_ looked weak and tired, but it was a different sort of hurting on his face now. Bodie wished like hell Doyle hadn't had to take that shot. "Why didn't you tell me you had the 'beam gun handy? You wouldn't have had to use it, if you'd told me."

Doyle took a sip of tea. "I was out of it, for a while there--I forgot that you'd given it to me, and by the time I remembered it, you were gone, and I couldn't call you back to get it."

"So you decided to bring it to me? Even though I said to stay put?"

Doyle sighed. "Yeah. I thought I could get to you before you found Jensen. But when I got out to the corridor and I saw you...I knew what I had to do." He reached for the kettle to pour himself another cup.

The spout clattered faintly against the rim of the cup, but Bodie knew that reaching out to help Doyle steady it would only end in anger and probably a shattered teacup.

"You're right, Ray. You did what you had to. If you hadn't--"

"You don't have to try and comfort me. It isn't the first time I've killed," he said flatly.

"I'm not trying to comfort you. I'm _trying_ to thank you. Jenny had me dead to rights. If you hadn't shot him--or even if you'd shot to wound him--he would have killed me."

"I know that."

"And I know how difficult it is, for an Angeline."

"You have no idea, Bodie." Doyle's voice was sharp.

That silenced him for a minute. "You're right. I don't."

Doyle poured them each another cup of tea; his hand shook a little less this time. He added milk to Bodie's cup before handing it back to him. Bodie hadn't known that Doyle ever paid attention to how he took his tea.

"Ray," he said quietly.

Doyle looked up.

"The last person you killed for was your brother. I'm grateful, and...honoured, I guess, that you'd do the same for me. My own avenging angel," Bodie added, with a lopsided smile.

Doyle looked away. Bodie reached out and tipped his chin up, his thumb tracing Doyle's swollen lip. "That's twice now you've saved my life," he murmured, more seriously now. "Maybe I do need a Keeper, after all."

Doyle half-smiled at the joke; that was progress.

Bodie sat back before touching Doyle could tempt him to push things farther. Now was definitely _not_ the time. "How's your head?"

"Better than it was," Doyle said, which didn't mean _good_.

"We should set down somewhere and get you checked out. You weren't really focused when I found you back there."

Doyle shook his head, then winced, apparently regretting the sudden motion. "No. Any tests they do will include blood, and they'll get an ID, and then we'll be in worse trouble. You'd have to really register me as Bound to keep the Angeline away from us, then."

"And you don't want that. _I_ don't want that," Bodie said. "But if you're no better tomorrow, I'm setting us down, and you can argue all you want. I'd rather have you tracked than dead."

Doyle chuckled. "Thanks."

"But I have to say--you made a hell of a sight, tied up like that."

"Well, I'm glad one of us was enjoying it."

Bodie grinned. "Trust me, angelfish. I could make it so we'd both enjoy it--_very_ much."

***

Bodie let Doyle sleep for a while, although he made a point of checking up on him every hour or so. After the third time, Doyle had flung a pillow at him and said he wasn't dying, thanks, but that Bodie might if he didn't leave him alone.

Bodie left him alone after that. He called up various channels on his handheld, scouring the lists to see if there was a job nearby. Something safe, something easy. Maybe even something _legal_, for a change.

He found what he was looking for in a shipping job a few systems away. It had been posted only an hour ago, and everything appeared to check out. To top it off, the delivery site was a single jump from Pellia, where he'd been planning to settle down for a week or two, anyway.

Doyle seemed all right when he woke; there was a lovely bruise shading the side of his face, but it didn't look as though Jensen had done him any lasting damage.

Still, whenever Bodie caught sight of the purple mark, he couldn't help but feel a savage satisfaction that Jensen wouldn't ever get another chance to touch him.

"Did we settle on a course?" Doyle said. When he'd gone to sleep, they had still been making random jumps to throw off any possible pursuit.

"Yeah, I found us a shipping job. Perfectly legal, this time--nothing to bother your curly head about."

"How long?"

"One day to the loading site, six days to delivery. And after this, we'll have enough money to go to ground for a while. I promised you an ocean view once, didn't I? And it might be a good thing to keep our heads down until we're sure Kell isn't going to make a fuss over Jensen."

"Sounds good to me," Doyle said. He spent a good deal of the trip scrubbing the airlock chamber, making sure that there would be nothing to connect them to Jensen. Bodie busied himself making room in the cargo hold, testing the lifts that would help them get the heavy shipping containers loaded and unloaded. They would have the trip done in a week, and then they could relax.

He had a good feeling about this job.

***

They put down in the early morning, local time. Bodie considered waiting until a more appropriate hour to meet with their client, but he decided against it. There was no point in waiting, after all. The quicker the cargo was delivered, the happier everyone would be.

Doyle seemed to have come to the same conclusion; Bodie saw that he'd already put on the collar, though he didn't look happy about it. All the more reason to get off-planet quickly, so that Doyle could put it away again.

He let down the ramp, and they stepped off the Capri into the quiet docking bay. Something about the silence seemed to ring in his ears.

They were halfway across the dock when Bodie realised what was wrong.

The spaceport was deserted. It wasn't the quiet of an off-hours shift, or a slow time of year--someone had paid to make sure that the spaceport would be empty when they docked.

Any good feelings he'd had about the job vanished instantly. "I don't like this," Bodie said tightly.

Doyle set his jaw and pulled the 'beam gun from his jacket pocket. Bodie stared at him; Doyle gave him a wry look and flipped the switch to charge the gun.

"Just keep walking. Maybe the ambush isn't meant for us," Bodie said, not even half believing it.

"Sure," Doyle replied, sounding just as unconvinced. "Maybe."

They rounded a stack of metal shipping containers and found four people standing in the open doorway of the docking bay. And if there were four visible, there were probably at least as many hidden among the equipment on the far side of the dock.

Bodie frowned at the four waiting for them. There was an Angeline among them, a vaguely familiar face...

Her wing shifted faintly as she reached down.

"Bodie--" Doyle twisted and shoved Bodie down behind the stack of crates just as the first 'beam shots soared past them.

"Thanks," Bodie said breathlessly, drawing his slugthrower. He peered around the edge of the stack and pulled away just ahead of the 'beam shots. "Kell must have found out about Jensen."

"_How_?"

"Who knows? But it can't be anything else."

Doyle leaned out and fired a few 'beam blasts to keep their attackers busy. "What now?"

"I'm thinking."

A 'beam blast whined past Bodie's ear, and he winced.

"Think faster," Doyle said.

The stack of shipping containers was only about four feet high, and Bodie could already feel the metal warming against his back. Eventually the 'beams were going to melt through, or set the contents of the bins on fire, or their attackers would get tired of waiting and rush them. At any rate, they weren't going to last long.

"One of these days a job is going to go right," he said.

"Not this time." Doyle took a deep breath. "I can hold them off for a few minutes. Get back to the ship."

"Without you?"

"_I_ was the one who shot Kell." Doyle ducked back as a spray of fire cut a rain of hot metal splinters from their makeshift shelter.

"Only because I didn't get to him first!" Bodie twisted out from cover and fired two shots towards their attackers. Someone shouted, and he hoped that he'd taken at least one out of the fight. "All right, I think it's time for a tactical retreat. Follow me, keep close and as low as you can, all right?"

Doyle nodded grimly.

Bodie jumped up from behind cover, spraying fire across the landing bay before turning to run. Doyle was up behind him, his 'beam fire falling just short of the attackers' cover spot--but close enough that they still ducked away. Soft-hearted bastard, but it worked.

They were almost to the ship, and Bodie thought they really might have a chance if they could get inside. Then Doyle swore and cried out.

Bodie spun around and saw him drop to one knee, the 'beam gun falling from nerveless fingers. His left hand clutched at the top of his right shoulder, where blood was seeping through the dark fabric of his shirt. Someone in Kell's ambush was using a slugthrower, and they'd hit his partner.

Bodie swore viciously and sent a scattering of cover fire at their attackers before racing back to Doyle. He grabbed Doyle's uninjured arm and pulled him backwards, prepared to drag him all the way up the ramp if he couldn't carry him.

But carrying him wasn't a problem. "You don't weigh anything!" he exclaimed, scooping Doyle up in his arms and ducking back into the ship.

"It's the hollow bones, I expect," Doyle mumbled.

Shots pinged off the hull, but the ramp rose quickly, preventing the attackers from advancing on them.

Doyle shifted in his arms. "You can put me down now. I'm all right."

Bodie set him back on his feet, where he wavered alarmingly before standing up straight. "You sure about that?"

"Yeah, I've just never been shot before."

Bodie pushed aside the torn fabric of Doyle's shirt and prodded the broken skin beneath, eliciting a vicious curse from Doyle. "Technically, angelfish, you still haven't been. It's a crease--a deep one, but not a through-shot. Just grazed you. A few inches over, though, and..." He rested his fingertips against the base of Doyle's throat, just below the bounty collar. He could feel the pulse pounding there, adrenaline still racing through them both. "We got lucky."

"Yeah." Doyle swallowed hard and leaned against the wall, looking paler than usual.

"At least your shirt's dark--won't show the stain."

"Small favours." He started off towards his bunk, steadily enough.

Bodie made to follow him, reaching into one of the storage cupboards. "If you get your shirt off, I'll bring the kit round and give you a hand once we lift off."

Doyle turned back. "No, I can take care of it."

"It'll be easier with another set of hands."

"I _said_, I can take care of it," he repeated sharply.

"Bloody hell, Doyle, I've seen your fucking wings before."

Doyle's face was tight with pain and anger. "I don't care about that. I don't need your help."

"Fine." Bodie thrust the first-aid kit against Doyle's chest with a bit more force than was strictly necessary. "Have fun."

***

Bodie didn't bother to warn Doyle when they lifted off. Kell's people had stopped shooting, and luckily they didn't seem to be interested in pursuit. He set the Leap Drive on a course without caring much where it took them, and he glared out at the unsettling black of the microjumps for a while. When the shifting stars began to give him a headache, he checked the network and found that a bounty had been issued on the Capri and its occupants--alive, or with confirmation of death. The price was not small, and Bodie was perversely flattered.

Eventually he heard quiet footsteps mounting the few stairs into the cockpit.

Doyle hesitated in the doorway. "Bodie, can you give me a hand?"

"Two weren't quite enough, eh?" he said viciously.

He sighed. "I'm sorry."

Bodie's irritation faded. "Don't worry about it. Just wish you didn't have to play the stubborn bastard all the time." He swivelled around in the chair to find that Doyle had changed his shirt. "What do you need?"

"I took care of the graze, but there's blood on the wings, and my arm's gone too stiff to reach it. Will you--?"

"Yeah, of course." Bodie checked their course one last time and followed Doyle back down the corridor.

Doyle stopped in front of the door to his cabin, but Bodie beckoned him forward. "My bed's bigger. You can lie flat while I take care of the blood--you look like you can barely stand as it is."

Doyle rolled his eyes, but he nodded agreement, retrieving the first-aid kit from the table before following Bodie to his cabin. The ebbing adrenaline had left them both faintly shaky, and Bodie didn't have the pain and frustration of a graze to further diminish his energy.

Bodie called up the lights to a soft golden glow, not too bright or too harsh. He took the kit from Doyle. "A bruised face and a shoulder wound," Bodie said sadly. "People are going to think I'm mistreating you."

Doyle offered a weak laugh. He unbuttoned his shirt and eased it off his shoulders, seeming far less self-conscious than Bodie would have expected. There was a neat white bandage over the graze, and Bodie was relieved to see that it wasn't bleeding through.

Doyle turned away, his wings still folded and trapped by the harness. "Why did you come back for me?" he asked.

"Well, there's a hitch in the Leap Drive needs fixing..."

"Bodie."

"The hell kind of a question is that, anyway? Why _wouldn't_ I have come back for you?"

Doyle smiled. "Thank you." He slid the harness off and let his wings stretch. Bodie was still awed by the sight, and thought he might always be. There was blood on the feathers of the right wing, below the spot where the bullet had grazed Doyle's shoulder.

Doyle settled onto the bed, lying on his stomach.

"Are you sure you don't mind my touching them?"

He shifted his shoulders, wincing into the pillow when his right arm pulled at the bandage. "No. After all of this, you must know that I..." He sighed. "It's all right."

Bodie knelt to one side of Doyle's hips and wetted a soft cloth. Hesitantly, he reached out and wiped the cloth along one bloodied pinion.

There was a flutter, and Bodie reached out instinctively with his other hand to steady the trembling wing, letting his palm glide gently over the curve of it. "Shh," he murmured, not sure which of them he was trying to calm.

It didn't take long; the wings themselves were undamaged and the blood was still damp and easily cleaned. They were as beautiful up close as they had been from across the room, pure white and graceful, the lowest feathers brushing the curve of Doyle's hip.

Bodie let his hand wander to the other wing, tracing its outline with the tip of one finger. The wings fluttered again; he wondered if it tickled.

He set the cloth aside and continued his explorations, slowly and gently, always waiting for Doyle to pull away, to tell him that enough was enough, his wings were surely clean by now. But the wings kept fluttering, and Bodie was nearly sure now that it was a sign of enjoyment. He raised both hands and sent his palms skating across the upper curves of the wings, his hands sliding down their length.

Doyle gasped and shivered, his hips pumping against the mattress once, twice before his whole body tightened and he gave a soft groan.

Bodie pulled back, amazed at what he'd accomplished with such a simple touch. He struggled to find his voice again. "Hell, Doyle, I didn't realise."

He sighed. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "Shouldn't have..."

Bodie rested his palm over Doyle's spine, fitting perfectly on the warm skin between the wings. "Nothing to be sorry about, angelfish. Go to sleep."

Bodie lay down beside him, letting his hand fall to the small of Doyle's back. Not holding him, not quite, but enough to remind Doyle that Bodie was there, and that he wasn't going anywhere, at least not until Doyle fell asleep.

Then Bodie could slip off and have a shower. A very, _very_ cold shower.

He fell asleep first.

When Bodie woke in the morning, the other half of the bed was cool. But when he got up to straighten the sheets, he found one long, white feather caught up in the folds of the bedspread. He set it on the bedside table, not quite willing to throw it away.

He showered and dressed, then decided it was time to brave the galley.

Doyle was already sitting at the table with breakfast in front of him.

"Morning," Bodie said too brightly, stepping inside. "How's your shoulder?"

"Not bad. There's tea, if you want any."

Maybe that would be it, then. They could both quite easily pretend that nothing else had happened last night.

Bodie made it halfway to the kettle before Doyle spoke again.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," he said very quietly.

"You don't have to apologise for being shot," Bodie said, his voice light.

"That's not what I mean, and you know it."

"Yeah, I know," he said sharply. "And I told you last night there was nothing to be sorry for. If anything, I ought to apologise. I didn't know what I was doing to you..."

"You couldn't have known. I should have stopped you. Or at least reciprocated," he said, looking up with a wry grin.

Bodie blinked. "Only I haven't got any wings to play with, have I?"

"I'm sure I could have worked something out."

Bodie reached for a teacup, wondering if the offer was still open. There was a dull _thunk_ from aft, and suddenly he wasn't walking anymore.

Free-fall.

Bodie swore as the teacup bounced off his cheek. "Gravity generator's gone."

"Oh, _is_ it?" Doyle snapped.

Bodie turned and found him clinging to a light fixture on the galley wall, pale and shaky. Even from across the room (and upside down, with respect to the floor), he could see Doyle's wings struggling against the harness he wore, helpless. Of course--if it felt like falling, every instinct would be screaming for him to free his wings.

"Relax," Bodie said. "You'll mess up your shoulder again." He pushed off the wall and drifted towards Doyle. "It's probably just a short somewhere on the generator coil. I'll switch off the Leap Drive so we can work on it without getting electrocuted."

"Right," Doyle said tightly.

"You think you can let go of the wall long enough to give me a hand?"

Doyle let go and clenched his fists, obviously wanting nothing more than to reach for his handhold again.

"Are you going to be sick?" Bodie asked, caught between concern for Doyle and revulsion over the idea of free-floating vomit.

"No, it's--it just feels like falling."

"You'll get used to it, Icarus. Or we'll get it fixed, and then you won't have to. Come on." He turned a somersault in the air; Doyle made a face at him.

"Bloody show-off," he muttered, but he slowly followed Bodie back to the engine room. He didn't seem to like the idea of pushing off and floating; he was more or less crawling down the hall, grasping at doorways and cupboards and anything else he could find to anchor himself.

Doyle eventually relaxed well enough to help Bodie with the generator, even though his wings never stopped shifting nervously beneath the harness. The tools had an irritating tendency to drift away when released, but in less than an hour they managed to fix the shorted wires.

It was going to take a while for the generator to struggle back to full power, so Bodie amused himself in the fractional gravity by spinning around and bouncing off the walls of the hull. The Capri's generator might be slow to recover, but when he'd first shipped out from home he'd hired onto a boat where the generator had worked about half the time. He'd learned how to cope with low and zero gravity rather quickly.

He twisted in the air and collided with Doyle, reaching out to steady them both. He was close, so close, and Bodie couldn't help but lean in and press his lips to Doyle's. Doyle's mouth opened against his, and Bodie's arm settled around Doyle's waist. They drifted slowly towards the deck, pressed together for the space of a few rapid heartbeats.

Then Doyle's eyes flashed open. He shoved back, and they flew apart, action and reaction exaggerated by low gravity. The generator hummed, and they were pulled gently back down to the deckplates as gravity reasserted itself.

Bodie reached for him again. "Ray?"

"No. I can't."

Bodie let his eyes stray down Doyle's body. "Sure looks like you can."

He shook his head. "Don't, Bodie. I said I can't." He started down the corridor, but as he went to pass Bodie, Bodie reached out an arm to bar his way.

"Fine, then," he snapped. "How much?"

"What?"

"How much for a night with an Angeline? Is it more if I want to fuck you, less if I want to drop down on my knees and suck you till you scream? What if I just want to touch your wings again, make you come over and over like that? How much then?"

"Bodie," Doyle said, his voice shaking as though the sound were being wrenched from him. "It wouldn't--I would never..."

"You wouldn't? Awfully choosy, aren't you?"

Doyle's fists clenched, and his eyes narrowed as he drew himself away. His shoulders shifted again beneath the fabric of his shirt, as though some reflex made him want to extend his wings. Fight or flight--and flight was so very easy for an Angeline.

"I wouldn't want money from you," he said tightly. "And that's why I can't." He pushed past Bodie and stalked stiffly down the corridor to vanish into his cabin.

Bodie stared after him. _I wouldn't want money from you._ Because Doyle wanted him. It would be more than a business transaction for him, more than an exchange of cash for services. It would mean attachments, and that was a luxury that a fugitive Angeline couldn't afford.

Or so he thought.

Bodie didn't see Doyle again until evening. He was just lifting a hand to knock at the door of Doyle's room, to find some way to apologise, when the door itself slid aside.

Doyle blinked to find him waiting. "I was just going to find you," he said. He pressed a coil of leather into Bodie's hands. "I won't need this anymore. When we set down, I'll find another ship."

Bodie's heart sank. "Ray, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I won't touch you again, I swear."

He shook his head. "That isn't why I'm going. I've been here too long as it is; it's not safe for either of us if I stay."

"It's not safe for you to be _alone_, either! You've got two bloody bounties out on you now--how long do you think you're going to last?"

"I'm not going to be responsible for you getting hurt. I won't let that happen to someone I care about. Not again."

"And it all comes back to you, doesn't it? What _you_ feel responsible for. How do you think _I'm_ going to feel if you go off on your own and get killed, or get captured and have your wings cut off?"

Doyle's jaw tightened, but he stood firm. "I'm leaving, Bodie, and you can't fucking stop me." He pressed the panel, and the door slid closed between them.

Bodie lingered by the cabin door, wondering what he could say that would convince Doyle not to go. In the end he walked away without a word and settled into the cockpit.

The Leap Drive came to life, and Bodie watched the stars disappear, counting the slow seconds of the microjump before the Capri jolted and the stars returned, new stars in new places--

And new ships. An alarm warbled out of the Capri's navigation system, warning him that their next jump would be impossible due to the bodies in the ship's path.

Bodie looked out at small armada ranged before them, from one-man fighters to carriers larger than the Capri herself.

Doyle, drawn by the alarms, scrambled into the cockpit. "Kell," he muttered. "How did he trace us?"

"Our signal must have leaked our destination."

"And they got here before us? That's a hell of a risk, plotting a course like that."

"Yeah, scraping up on black holes and skirting binaries all the way. Probably lost half a dozen ships in the process."

"Too bad they didn't lose more," Doyle said with unaccustomed harshness.

"Watch it, mate, the Earthbound's starting to rub off on you." He had quite a bit more to say on the subject of _rubbing off_, but this was clearly not the time. He unbuckled his crash belt. "You said you could fly, right? Now's your chance to show off."

"Where are you going?"

"The weapons bubble up top. See if you can give us some evasive manoeuvres, yeah?"

"Whatever you say, Captain." Doyle slid into Bodie's seat and buckled the belt.

"All you have to do is get us past the ships, then give the Leap Drive enough time to calculate an escape vector. They'll be all out of formation by then, and they shouldn't be able to follow."

"Shouldn't," Doyle echoed.

"Yeah." Bodie reached out and gripped Doyle's uninjured shoulder tightly for a second. "Fair skies, angelfish," he said, too lightly, and vanished down the corridor.

***

Doyle had never been happier to know the Capri as well as he did. He knew the thrusters would handle the strain he put on them, that the hydraulics weren't going to cut out on him. He wove the ship between their attackers while Bodie picked them off one at a time, fighters and cargo cruisers alike.

The assault shuttle seemed to rear up out of nowhere, full in their sights and bristling with weaponry. Doyle sent the Capri spiralling to one side in a move that the repaired gravity generator couldn't quite compensate for; he blinked away the dizziness in time to see a 'beam salvo miss them by a few feet. Bodie was pouring fire at the assault shuttle, stitching patterns onto the hull to cause a breach, to damage weapons emplacements, anything to buy them a few moments to get past the ship.

Doyle saw the next weapons bank drawing a bead on them and sent the ship spinning away again, but the gunners had learned from their last mistakes. The Capri bucked viciously, warning lights flaring red all through the cabin. Doyle glanced at the readout. _Dorsal hull breach_.

"Bodie!" Doyle pushed the engines to full-speed, no longer caring about evasive manoeuvres, and raced back down the corridor. The ship shuddered again, knocking him into a wall hard enough to jar his shoulder again. He felt a trickle of blood slide down his back and ignored it. He could deal with it later, assuming there was a later. He climbed the short ladder up to the weapons bubble and slapped the access panel.

Air shrieked past him as the hatch came open, tugging at his clothes and his hair. Atmosphere was venting out through the cracks that had appeared on the transparent bubble. Any moment the bubble would shatter completely, and they'd be whisked out to die miserably in the vacuum.

Bodie was slumped over the console unmoving.

Doyle pulled him up, reaching down to unbuckle the crash belt, and was startled to see the amount of blood dripping down the side of Bodie's face. Scalp wound, concussion, lack of oxygen. Doyle wasn't even sure he was breathing. And what was wrong with the bloody crash belt?

The hatch had closed behind him. The scream of escaping air was beginning to fade, and Doyle had to fight against a sudden darkening of vision. Not much air left in the bubble, he had to get Bodie out...

Finally the crash belt came free, and Bodie tumbled into his arms. Doyle pounded on the access panel and the hatch slid open again, bringing a blessed rush of air with it. He got Bodie down the ladder and hit the control panel again, closing the hatch and keeping the rest of the ship's air from being sucked into space.

He dropped back to the deckplates, not bothering with the rungs of the ladder, and knelt beside Bodie. "Bodie? _Bodie_!"

He shuddered and gasped, and Doyle felt relief begin to temper the terror washing through him. Bodie's eyes flashed open and locked on Doyle's for an instant before falling closed in unconsciousness.

Doyle paused long enough to catch his breath. They were still alive--that was something, at least. And he couldn't feel any more 'beams hitting the hull, but that didn't mean they were safe.

He roused himself again and managed to get Bodie down the corridor and into his cabin. He cleaned the cut near Bodie's temple; it wasn't as bad as it had looked, but it was still bleeding sluggishly, and there was no telling what other injuries Bodie might have. They needed to find a medical centre, and fast.

He didn't want to leave Bodie, but the ship wasn't going to pilot itself. He left the door of the cabin open--in case he woke, in case he called out, in case...anything--and went back to the cockpit.

The viewscreen showed nothing but stars in front of them. Doyle sighed with relief. He would never know how they had lived long enough to make a jump, but he wasn't going to question it. Not now.

But their escape was just about the only good news. Nearly every light on the control panel was amber or red. Doyle almost laughed to see it--hydraulics, thrusters, even the just-repaired gravity generator, all damaged or stressed to the breaking point. The Leap Drive still worked, and they had air to breathe, but there wasn't much else that could be counted on.

He sat back down in the pilot's chair and called up a chart of their position. There was nothing at all within half-a-dozen jumps. Even if the Capri, as battered as she was, could handle a trip that long, he didn't know if Bodie could.

The corner of the screen blinked, alerting Doyle to the existence of one suppressed system nearby. Surely if Bodie had set the navigator to hide the system, he had a reason for it. Doyle called it up anyway.

The system was a single jump away. It boasted advanced medical facilities, plenty of spaceports, and a sanctuary system that would keep Kell's people off Bodie's back while he recovered.

And Doyle knew exactly why Bodie had hidden it. He also knew that they didn't have any other choice.

Doyle pulled up the navigator and set a course for home.

He didn't have to wait very long. As soon as the ship dropped out of Leap, they were hailed by a spaceport controller.

"Freighter, please identify your crew and state your reason for entering Angeline space."

Doyle flipped the communicator switch without hesitation. "Freighter _Capri_, captained by William Bodie. This is Raymond Doyle, and I want to speak to the Magistrates."

The controller sounded somewhat taken aback. "And what is the reason for this demand?"

Doyle braced himself. "Tell them I want to discuss terms of surrender."

***

Bodie wasn't quite sure when the real world started seeping back in through the fog. Eventually he realised that the bed he was lying in was utterly stationary, lacking even the faint humming vibration of the Capri in a steady orbit. Dirtside, then.

There was a hand around his, warm and callused and comforting. Bodie squeezed just a little, and felt the hand tighten gently in response.

"Welcome back, sunshine," Doyle said softly.

Bodie opened his eyes, at first seeing only Doyle, alive and whole. The relief overpowered all of his other concerns for a moment. He went to speak, and found his voice muffled by an oxygen mask. He glared and pulled it off. "We made it."

"Yeah."

Bodie shifted and struggled to sit up. "We're in an Infirmary," he said blankly. "How long have we been here?"

"Going on four days."

"How did we get past the ships? I don't remember."

"You wouldn't. The weapons bubble was hit--you took a nice blow to the head, and then almost took a spacewalk without a suit."

He shivered. "But you set us down all right."

Doyle flinched, a faint shadow of a frown masked in a heartbeat. "Yeah, I set us down." His wings shivered, just faintly.

Bodie frowned, knowing that something was wrong, but not quite what. His grip on Doyle's hand tightened suddenly. "Your wings, Doyle!" he hissed. "What are you thinking? If someone checks the records--"

"It doesn't matter."

"It doesn't _matter_? Are you sure I'm the one who got hit on the head? Of course it bloody matters. You could be caught! And I'm in no state to stop them." He wasn't even wearing the damned bounty collar.

Doyle closed his eyes briefly. "Bodie, I have to go."

"Go where?"

His eyes flickered over to the doorway. "They said I could stay with you until you woke up."

Bodie shifted to follow the direction of Doyle's glance. A pair of Angeline were standing at the door, waiting, and Bodie's heart sank as he realised where they'd set down. "No--oh, Ray, no."

"It was the only place we could run to." He laid a passkey on the table beside the bed. "The Capri's in a berth at the spaceport. She's pretty torn-up, but you'll be able get her running again. Just--promise me you won't try to fix the thrusters yourself?" His smile was strained.

Bodie reached out and grabbed his hand again, his grip tight. "You can't let them do this."

He shook his head. "You don't understand." Doyle leaned forward and kissed Bodie hard on the mouth. "It's worth it," he whispered, his lips still brushing Bodie's.

Doyle's hand slipped out of Bodie's grasp, and he approached the waiting Keepers. At the doorway, he turned back. "Do me one favour, Bodie? Don't go to the judgment. And don't do anything stupid, yeah?"

"That's two favours," Bodie said, desperate to keep him there for just one moment longer.

But by then, Doyle was gone, escorted into the corridor by the two silent Keepers.

As soon as he could be sure his voice would stay steady, Bodie called up the on-duty medic and asked for his clothes. They'd been cleaned; no traces remained of the blood that must have stained his shirt. Under the circumstances, he was considerably less grateful for that nicety than he might have been otherwise.

The medics all gave him disapproving looks, but nobody made any attempt to stop him as he signed the paperwork permitting his release from the Infirmary.

He was nearly ready to make his escape when someone knocked on the door-frame. He finished buttoning his shirt and turned around to see a tall, blonde Angeline in the doorway. He glared at her. "Keeper Alea, is it? Come to gloat?"

"No, I--" she hesitated, dropping her gaze to the floor. "I came to deliver the bounty price. It was part of the conditions of Doyle's surrender."

_You'll be able to get her running again_, Doyle had said when Bodie asked about the Capri. He had made sure that Bodie would have the means to do it, but he didn't want the money--not if this was the price for it. "Keep it. He was never really my bounty, anyway."

She looked up at him then, her eyes fierce. "He doesn't deserve this," she whispered. "What he did, it wasn't right, but he doesn't deserve to have his wings taken."

"How about that?" he said coldly. "Something we agree on."

"So what are we going to do about it?"

Bodie looked at her in surprise. "I don't know. He told me not to do anything stupid. Wanted me to just leave him here."

"Of course he did. The whole damned Doyle family was too stupid and self-sacrificing for their own good. And I'm not going to see another one of them hurt because of it."

"Good. It'll be nice to have some help."

She smiled at him, a tremulous expression, and Bodie realised that she'd just compromised her entire life's morals by coming to him and saying what she had. The least Bodie could offer her was a bit of understanding.

"Keeper--"

"Just Alea," she corrected.

"Alea, then. Ray told me that you loved his brother."

She smiled tightly. "Jamie and I had been engaged for a week and a day when he was killed."

"I'm sorry."

"So am I. And I can't stand by and let his brother be hurt like this. Jamie wouldn't want it--and neither do I."

Bodie nodded; it was as good a reason for helping Doyle as any. "Come on back to the Capri, then. We can have a proper cup of tea, away from prying ears, and we'll talk about...what to do next."

***

The walk to the spaceport was more exhausting than Bodie had expected. Convalescence had never been his favourite game, and he'd always had a tendency to push himself a bit too hard, too soon, which tended to make matters worse.

Fortunately, Alea didn't seem to notice. She followed him into the berth and eyed the Capri sceptically. "She's a bit of a mess, isn't she?"

Bodie opened his mouth to defend his ship, but he had to admit that Alea had a point. The Capri's paint was blistered and scarred from the heat of the 'beam salvos she'd avoided, and some of the outer hull panels were peeled back where they hadn't quite managed to escape all of the blasts. Doyle had put her on full burn to outrun the assault ships, and she wasn't used to being pushed like that--the engines at least would need overhauling before he could even lift off.

He couldn't see the weapons bubble from the ground; he wasn't sure he wanted to. "Ray and I will get her running again," he said sharply, then keyed the ramp down. He gestured for Alea to follow him into the ship, and the ramp rose behind them with a squeal of distressed metal. "We'll fix that, too."

He walked back to the galley and stopped in the doorway. On the table lay the fake bounty collar. There was no note, nothing at all but the coiled band of leather. With an effort, Bodie kept himself moving, crossing the galley and rummaging around for the tea things. When he'd finished, he handed one cup to Alea and settled into his chair with an undisguised sigh of relief.

"How long do we have?" he asked.

"Until noon tomorrow."

Not very long, but long enough to sort out their move. "So how does it work, then? Is it public--are there going to be witnesses?"

"Yes. There won't be much of a trial, not like you Earthbound have. He's already been declared a Fallen, you see."

"Sentenced without a trial," Bodie said with a thin smile. "How very civilised."

"But there _will_ be a formal declaration," Alea continued, ignoring Bodie's sarcasm. "And that might be where we can help him. I can't speak out against the ruling. It would cost me my position as Keeper. But I could appeal to them, and give you a chance to speak in his defence."

"Will they even listen to me? After all, I'm only a bloody Earthbound."

Alea bit her lip. "They will if you have the support of an Angeline. I...I think I could go that far to help him."

"You _think_ you can, or you _will_? I have to know for certain, Alea."

She looked him in the eye. "I will," she said steadily. "I will make sure you have your chance to speak."

"Thank you."

"You will be able to speak with them--that doesn't mean they will change their minds. What will you do then?"

Bodie didn't like thinking that failure was even a possibility, not with what that would mean for Doyle, but he had to acknowledge that it might happen. "I don't care if he's got wings or not. I still want him to be..." Bodie gave up the pretence. "I still want him."

Alea nodded. "But you have to understand that he may not feel the same way."

"I know." Bodie's head throbbed viciously, and he rubbed at the half-healed cut above his temple.

"You shouldn't have left the Infirmary," Alea said.

"I'm all right."

"You won't be helping him if you collapse at the judgment."

"I _said_ I'm all right." He wasn't entirely sure that was true, but he couldn't just lie in bed while Doyle went out to a punishment he didn't deserve.

"If you're certain," Alea said, clearly unconvinced. "I will speak with the Magistrates tonight. Tomorrow I will meet you here and escort you to the judgment."

"You don't have to--just tell me where it will be."

She smiled. "Trust me. You will want an escort."

After a restless night and a long walk through the city, Bodie found out why. The judgment was to take place atop a broad pillar some thirty feet high, with sheer glass-smooth sides and no way to ascend besides flight. Yet another thing to delineate the Angeline from other, Earthbound species. Bodie wondered what happened to injured Angeline, or those born with malformed wings. He didn't expect that they found much compassion here.

"Great," Bodie growled. "Now how the _hells_ am I supposed to get up there?"

Alea gave him a wry look. "I'll take you up."

Bodie snorted. "I weigh _twice_ what you do, Alea, there's no way you can--"

She wrapped one arm around his waist and jumped. A few powerful beats of her wings stirred the air around them, and a moment later they had risen to the level of the platform. She set him down with a smug look.

"Thanks," Bodie said, and he turned to face the Magistrates.

Alea hadn't lied about the executions being public. There were a few dozen Angeline seated along the rim of the dais, and others simply hovering above it, waiting. At the far end of the platform sat seven Angeline, three men and four women. One of the men seemed to be in charge of the proceedings--his chair was in the centre, and rose slightly higher than the others. Bodie decided to address his argument to that one.

On a small table before the Magistrates was a needle and a simple laser saw. Bodie's mouth went too dry to speak.

The Magistrate in the centre of the gathering cleared his throat gently. "You are William Bodie?"

He forced himself to look away from the saw. "Yes. I wanted to speak with you about this--judgment."

The Magistrate looked at Bodie with a slight frown, as though unable to understand why he would bother. "What complaint do you have? We afforded you Sanctuary. We have done you no harm."

"Yeah, but you're about to do my partner a _great deal_ of harm, and I take issue with that."

"Your partner. You speak of Raymond Doyle, the Fallen?"

"Yeah, I'm talking about Ray."

"His status is clear; the punishment is just according to our laws."

"Yes, but won't you let anybody speak in his defence?"

"How can there be defence for his actions? He violated our laws."

"But there were extenuating circumstances. He had a reason for--" Bodie stopped. He could see that the concept of a justifiable crime meant absolutely nothing to the Magistrates. There was no circumstance, in their worldview, that would allow a person to break the laws. He was going to have to find another way to appeal to them.

Turnabout, maybe. "The whole reason you're after him is because he killed an Earthbound, right? Doesn't it balance things, knowing that he's _saved_ an Earthbound, too?"

The right-most Angeline spoke, sounding mildly interested. "Has he done so?"

"He's saved my life more than once. He set down here, knowing what you'd do to him, because of _me_. He was willing to give himself up, to give up his wings, because I was hurt. He could have kept running for years, maybe, if he'd let me die, but he didn't. He wouldn't. A sacrifice like that--surely it's worth a bit of clemency?"

The Magistrates conferred behind raised wings, and Bodie fought to keep from betraying his nervousness with a sigh or a shift of weight. If they said no, then things were going to get very, very interesting. Having seen the laser saw, he knew he wouldn't be able to let Doyle go without a fight. But he didn't exactly have a plan B--even if he could fight them off long enough to get Doyle away from the square, the Capri still wasn't spaceworthy. They'd have to steal a ship, and fast, because Bodie was concerned about what kind of punishment the Angeline meted out to those who didn't have wings to take.

He was pretty sure he didn't want to know.

The meeting ended in a flutter of white feathers. Bodie set his jaw and waited for   
them to speak.

The Magistrate in the centre inclined his head. "In light of your words, we have reconsidered the matter. The price of Raymond Doyle's Vengeance will be cancelled, and his bounty repealed. But he will never be welcome on our homeworld. Once he departs from the planet, he may not return; if he does, the penalty will be reinstated and his wings forfeit."

Weak with relief--and no small bit of exhaustion--Bodie bowed to them. "Thank you," he said. He wasn't sure what else one was supposed to say in a case like this. He went to stand aside, but one of the Magistrates held up a hand to stop him.

"Stay here," she said. "We will release the prisoner to your custody."

The woman gestured towards one of the Keepers standing ready. "Bring him."

The Keeper leapt from the edge of the platform and returned a moment later escorting Doyle.

Doyle flew under his own power, rising unnecessarily high above the platform before dropping gently towards the surface. Bodie couldn't blame him; after all, he expected it to be the last time he would ever use his wings.

He wasn't cuffed or restrained in any way, but he looked utterly defeated, his face blank as he landed on the dais and stood before the Magistrates. Then he looked up and saw Bodie standing beside them, and his eyes widened in horror and dismay.

Bodie wanted to rush over to him, to explain that everything was all right, but he knew that ritual was important to the Angeline, and he'd already put enough of a kink in their judgment process. He tried to offer a reassuring smile, to little effect.

"Raymond Doyle," the head Magistrate said, his voice ringing in the silence.

Doyle raised his head to look at him, his shoulders back, and said nothing.

"You stand before us declared as Fallen for the laws you have broken. As you were once a Keeper, you know well the penalty for such actions." He paused. "The sentence of a Vengeance is the forfeiture of one's wings."

Doyle nodded, his eyes closing briefly.

"However, your voluntary return in order to save your companion is not without merit. It suits the Magistrates to commute the sentence to exile. You will keep your wings, but you will not be permitted to return to our world."

Doyle's eyes flickered from the Magistrate to Bodie and back again, but he did not question the judgment. He bowed instead, demonstrating his appreciation for the commuted sentence.

"Until such time as you are able to depart, your companion will be answerable for your actions."

"So don't embarrass me, all right, angelfish?" Bodie said, stepping over to his side.

The Magistrate spoke one more time. "You are released from custody, Raymond Doyle."

Bodie caught his hand and all but dragged him to the edge of the dais. Doyle wrapped an arm around Bodie's waist and lowered them both gently towards the ground. Bodie could feel him shaking, but he didn't think it was from the added weight.

As soon as they hit the ground, Bodie was moving, desperate to put as much distance between them and the Magistrates as possible. Doyle kept pace with him, but they had both slowed noticeably by the time they reached the Capri.

When the ramp had folded up and sealed behind them, Doyle turned and threw his arms around Bodie.

"You," he muttered into Bodie's shoulder, "are an _idiot_."

"Shut up," Bodie said, and kissed him.

Doyle made a quiet sound and slid one hand up to glide through the short hair at the back of Bodie's neck, pulling him closer.

Bodie was just beginning to wonder if he'd actually have to let go of Doyle in order to get them both into his cabin when the com chimed. He groaned in protest and pulled away from Doyle.

"Hold that thought, angelfish," Bodie said. He pushed the com button in the corridor and swore when nothing happened--yet another casualty of the attack. He turned and dashed up to the cockpit to the com unit there. "Yes?" he demanded, refusing to let his sudden uneasiness colour his voice. If it was an Angeline boarding party come to take Doyle back, they were going to do it over his dead body.

"It's Alea," a familiar voice said. "I--"

Bodie didn't wait for her to explain why she had come. If she had come on business, she would have identified herself by her title. He dropped the ramp to let her aboard, and then left the cockpit to meet her in the corridor.

But before he could explain the situation, Doyle saw her. He tensed and took a half-step backwards. "They haven't changed their minds?" he asked.

Bodie stepped up beside Alea, shaking his head. "No. She's on our side."

Doyle gave him a disbelieving look, and Bodie couldn't exactly say he blamed him.

"She's the one who asked the Magistrates to let me speak. If she hadn't, I suppose I really would have had to go and do something stupid."

"You did?" Doyle asked, turning to Alea.

She looked faintly embarrassed. "You were right, Ray. There are some things for which the law does not account, crimes that are mitigated by circumstance. Can you forgive me for trying to bring you in?"

Doyle waved away her apology. "You were only doing your job."

"So were you," she said firmly. "I understand that, now."

He smiled. "Would you like some tea?"

"No, I'm afraid I can't stay."

"Don't want to be seen in the company of an ex-fugitive and an upstart Earthbound," Bodie said teasingly.

Alea flushed. "It isn't that."

Bodie waved a hand. "I understand. You've done more than anyone could have expected already, Alea. We don't want to get you into trouble."

She nodded. "All right, then. Now, I hope I never see you on this planet again--either of you."

Bodie grinned at the admonishment, and Alea turned to go.

"Wait." Doyle vanished into his cabin and returned an instant later. "This is all that I have left of Jamie's. I think he'd like you to have it." He held out the battered tin soldier.

Alea frowned at it. "But he was your brother."

"He would have been _your_ husband."

She took it, tracing over the remnants of the gold and blue paint that still clung to the toy. "Thank you, Ray." She stood on her toes and kissed him swiftly on the cheek--the most affectionate gesture Bodie had ever seen a 'normal' Angeline make. "Good-bye."

She kissed Bodie on the cheek as well--he tried, and failed, not to blush--and she turned to go. Her footsteps faded down the ramp, followed by the hiss and groan of the hatch sliding back into place, and then they were alone again.

Doyle took a deep breath and turned an unreadable gaze on Bodie. It lasted long enough that Bodie began to wonder if Doyle was going to kiss him again or possibly punch him in the jaw, but instead of either he walked down the corridor to the galley. He fixed Bodie a cup of tea and made him sit with it while Doyle himself prowled around the ship, making a list of the damages and the replacement parts they'd need.

Every time he stopped in the galley he started fretting about how they'd manage to pay for the new parts, but Bodie just shook his head and told him not to worry about it. They'd have enough to restore the basic systems, and then they would be able to work their way towards fixing up the extras. Bodie didn't mind the thought of a long repair job.

If there was nothing that needed fixing, there would be no reason for Doyle to stick around. He hoped Doyle would stay anyway, but now that he didn't have the Angeline bounty on him, there wasn't really any benefit to staying with Bodie. A couple of kisses didn't amount to any kind of a promise, after all.

So when Doyle finally slumped into a chair at the table, a long list of repairs in front of him, Bodie could forgive himself for having to hide a smile behind his teacup.

Doyle looked up from his repair list--he was starting to rank things in order of importance, Bodie thought--and gave him a hard look. "You need to sleep," he said abruptly.

Bodie glanced out the galley viewscreen dubiously. It was still daylight outside. And he'd spent half the last week in a bloody Infirmary bed, he didn't need--

He caught himself mid-yawn. All right then, maybe a bit of a rest _would_ be nice. He eyed Doyle's drawn face. When had he last slept? Waiting to get your wings cut off couldn't be very conducive to rest. "All right. But only if you join me."

"Bodie..."

"Just a kip, that's all. I think we're both too tired for anything else, aren't we?"

Doyle nodded and stood up to rinse out the teacups, then followed Bodie down the corridor into the cabin.

Bodie kicked off his boots and pulled his shirt over his head to toss it in the general direction of the laundry bin. Doyle hesitated, then stripped off his own shirt. Bodie took in the sight wistfully, wishing he had the energy to really appreciate a half-naked Doyle in his bed. He settled onto the bed and felt Doyle's slight weight shift the mattress before an arm wrapped around his waist to hold him.

Curled together in the centre of the bed, they were both asleep within moments.

***

When Bodie woke up, he was alone, but the muffled clanks and curses from somewhere aft told him that Doyle hadn't been taken--he'd just decided to make a start on the repairs. Bodie showered and dressed, feeling more or less normal again. It had been almost a week, after all, since their emergency landing. It was about time things got back to the way they had been.

He poked around at the cockpit for a while, fixing a few shorted wires--even _he_ couldn't screw that up too badly--but there wasn't much to be done. The bow had taken less damage than...other parts of the ship.

He sat back in the chair, and something glinted on one of the control panels--a credit chip. Bodie slipped it into the reader and stared. It contained the bounty price that Doyle had insisted Bodie be paid. Alea must have left it while they were planning Doyle's rescue, and somehow Bodie doubted it had been simply forgotten. Then again, she had seen the extent of the damage to the Capri, and she must have thought they would need the money.

Bodie didn't remember much about the fight that had preceded their arrival on Angeline. All he could recall with clarity was the jolt of impact as the 'beam had glanced off the bubble. Doyle had listed a complete replacement as part of the necessary repairs, but it couldn't have been as bad as he seemed to believe it was. He was so keen on keeping Bodie away from the weapons bubble--but Doyle was in the engine room, now, and couldn't stop him. Bodie glanced up and down the corridor, then climbed up the ladder to survey the damage.

It wasn't as bad as Doyle thought. It was probably _worse_. Bodie stared at the clear plastic of the bubble--three solid inches of it--and saw the web of fine cracks that spread across it, the tiny slivers that were missing entirely. He imagined the scream of escaping air, tugging at him as the cracks spread, threatening to shatter the bubble entirely.

There was a smear of dried blood on the console. He rubbed at the stain, feeling a phantom ache in the healing cut above his temple. Scalp wounds bled torrents; he couldn't imagine what a horror he'd appeared when Doyle had found him. No wonder the poor bastard had been so cagey lately.

He heard the faint ring of footsteps on the ladder, and then the hiss of the access hatch. Doyle stood behind him, very close in the tiny bubble.

"I didn't think it was as bad as you kept saying," Bodie confessed. "Thought you'd just had a scare."

"I did." Doyle stepped forward, resting a hand on Bodie's hip. "There was blood, and I didn't know if you were breathing. I thought you were..." Doyle trailed off.

Bodie leaned back against him, letting Doyle's hand slide around his waist. "But I'm not," he said firmly. "I'm alive. _We're_ alive."

"Yeah, we are." Doyle bent his head, trailing his lips along the nape of Bodie's neck.

Bodie shivered. "Ray, what I said, when the generator broke--"

"Forget it."

"_No_. It was out of line, and I'm sorry. You don't owe me anything, you know that."

"Yeah," Doyle said, one hand sliding beneath the hem of Bodie's shirt to glide over the warm skin beneath. "I know. Now can we go to bed?"

Bodie laughed. "I thought you'd never ask."

Doyle pulled away and dropped down the ladder. Bodie followed, brushing past him in the narrow corridor to lead the way to the cabin, and Doyle took a teasing pinch at his arse as he passed, eliciting an affronted curse. Bodie turned and pinned him against the bulkhead for a slow kiss, moving from lips to jaw to throat.

"Thought you wanted to go to bed."

"Mm," Bodie said, grazing Doyle's collarbone with his teeth. He splayed one hand gently over Doyle's groin, and Doyle arched into the touch. "Right. Bed." He pulled away and opened the cabin door, raising the lights to half-power.

The bed was neatly made, but Doyle's eyes settled on the floor beside it, where a single white feather lay. He glanced questioningly at Bodie.

"Found it tangled in the sheets after you got yourself grazed..."

"And you kept it?"

Bodie shrugged.

"I've got more, you know."

"Yeah, but if they'd got to you..."

Doyle laughed and caught him up in an embrace. "You really are a sentimental bastard, underneath everything, aren't you?"

"How would you know?" Bodie countered. "Haven't seen the underneath yet, have you?"

"No, but I'm looking forward to it."

Bodie dropped down onto the bed and pulled Doyle after him. His fingers worked at the buttons on the front of Doyle's shirt and he started to push it off his shoulders. Bodie frowned. "Hang on, how do you get it off?"

Doyle snorted. "Well, I hire on with an arrogant pilot, and then after several months and a lot of narrow escapes we go to bed and--"

"Ray. The _shirt_."

"Right." He knelt up, wringing a groan from Bodie at the pressure of Doyle's hips against his. He pushed the shirt off his shoulders and eased it over his wings. The fabric snagged on the tip of one wing; an irritable flick sent it to the floor in a heap.

Bodie's eyes roamed over the bared skin with undisguised appreciation.

"You just wanted to watch me strip, didn't you?"

"Guilty," Bodie said with a grin. "Trousers next, and put a little shimmy into it, would you?"

Doyle laughed and instead set to work on Bodie's shirt. Unencumbered by wings, it was easier to deal with, and Doyle traced long fingers up and down Bodie's chest, lingering over the old scars. He bent his head to lick at first one nipple, then the other, and Bodie writhed against him, pressing up against Doyle's weight.

Despite Doyle's distracting behaviour, Bodie managed to unfasten Doyle's trousers. He tried to slip a hand inside, and swore. "Bloody hell, you wear these things too tight."

Doyle grinned against Bodie's throat. "You love it."

Bodie wasn't about to deny that. Doyle slid off him, an action that Bodie soundly opposed until he opened his eyes and saw Doyle stripping out of his trousers.

"Nothing underneath?" he asked.

Doyle ducked his head shyly, but recovered himself and knelt back on the bed. "Now you, eh?" Doyle's hands over Bodie's groin nearly made an early end of everything. Bodie bit his lip sharply and let Doyle tug the trousers and pants down over his hips. The movement left Doyle's head close enough that Bodie could feel the warmth of Doyle's breath against his cock.

Doyle turned a glance up at him, tongue sliding over parted lips. Bodie shook his head and pulled him back up to straddle Bodie's hips. "I think we might have to save the fancy stuff for next time, angelfish."

Doyle nodded agreement and began to rock forward against him, long slow strokes that sent sparks skittering down Bodie's spine. Bodie clutched at the angle of Doyle's hip, the curve of his arse, and Doyle bent to kiss him, his wings gently buffeting the air around them and flickering over his skin.

They had been on edge for days; it wasn't going to take long. Bodie bucked up against Doyle one last time, the friction too much and never enough, and he sighed as he came. Before the world had quite settled around him, he felt Doyle go tense above him, warm drops scattering over his chest.

Bodie opened his eyes in time to see the dazed half-smile on Doyle's face. Then Doyle shifted and slipped down to lie beside Bodie, his breath beginning to slow. Bodie was going to say something, or at least pull a blanket up to cover them, but before the idea could turn itself to action he fell asleep.

***

Bodie woke an indeterminate while later--the lights in the cabin had dimmed as they slept, and he wasn't about to get up and find out what the local time was. In fact, nothing short of a ship-board fire would be enough to draw him out of bed just now.

He vaguely remembered waking long enough to clean up, the way that Doyle had twitched sleepily at the touch of the flannel, but that might have been half an hour ago or half a day.

Doyle was still asleep beside him, one wing draped almost protectively over him. The lowest feathers rested lightly on Bodie's thigh, shifting just slightly with every breath. Bodie closed his eyes and decided that another hour's sleep wouldn't cause the worlds to end.

Then Doyle stirred in his sleep and curled closer to Bodie, and one long feather skated delicately over Bodie's cock.

Well, he certainly wasn't going back to sleep _now_. He reached out and began to comb gently through the feathers, straightening pinions that either sleep or exertion had displaced.

After a few moments he heard a quiet sigh.

"If you keep doing that, I'm going to embarrass myself. Again."

Bodie stroked the edge of Doyle's wing with a fingertip. "You haven't got anything to be embarrassed about," he said firmly.

"No?"

"Seen it all, haven't I? I'd have noticed."

Doyle grinned and raised himself up on one arm, casting a long look over Bodie's body. "So, that fancy stuff you were talking about last night..."

"Do you think you're up for it?"

Doyle grinned. "Find out for yourself."

Bodie turned over and kissed him, bringing their bodies into contact from chest to hip. There was no question of whether Doyle was up for it. Bodie shifted into a better position, an echo of how they had lain together last time, and went on kissing him.

For Bodie, kissing was usually a means to an end, not something to waste too much time on. But he thought he could go on kissing Doyle for hours, listening to the quiet, pleased sounds low in Doyle's throat.

Eventually Doyle pulled away, flushed and grinning. "Have you got--?"

"In the table."

Doyle leaned up to pull out the tiny drawer and rummage for the tube. He retrieved it, and then eyed Bodie questioningly. "What would you like to do with this, then?"

"I'd like..." Bodie's face heated. "I want you to fuck me. On my back, so I can look at you."

Doyle groaned. "Keep talking like that and I'll spoil everything before we get started."

Bodie rolled onto his back and stole Doyle's pillow to settle it underneath him. Doyle slowly worked one slick finger inside him, his eyes never leaving Bodie's face.

Doyle's fingertip brushed teasingly in just the right place, and Bodie pressed into the touch. Doyle grinned and withdrew, giving Bodie just enough time to sigh in frustration before he pressed in again with two fingers.

"Get on with it, will you?" Bodie gasped in a voice he barely recognised as his own.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah."

Doyle pulled back, and Bodie grimaced at the emptiness. It took a moment to find the right position, Doyle kneeling between Bodie's thighs and Bodie's legs locked around his waist. Then, much too slowly for Bodie's liking, he slid inside.

Bodie bent his knees in an attempt to pull Doyle closer, and Doyle laughed breathlessly. "Slow down," he said. His hands skimmed over Bodie's chest, teasing, and he tried a shallow thrust.

Bodie rose up to meet him, driving Doyle to a quicker pace. Despite their best intentions, they both realised that slowing down would be next to impossible--there would be time to be patient later.

Doyle knelt above him, his head thrown back and his wings trembling, pulse pounding in the taut throat. Bodie held tight to him, trusting that Doyle wouldn't leave him behind. A moment later, Doyle reached out and took him in hand, stroking in time with his thrusts, and Bodie clung desperately to the last shreds of control. He was determined that this time he wouldn't be the one to lose it first, that he would be able to watch Doyle come.

Doyle gasped, shivering on the edge, and Bodie raised his hips to meet one last deep thrust. Doyle groaned as he came, back arched and wings stretched wide.

Bodie followed him over the edge with Doyle's name on his lips.

It was a long while before Doyle spoke, his head resting on Bodie's shoulder. "There's work to do," he murmured, already more than half asleep.

Bodie slid his arm around Doyle's waist, feathers tickling his skin. "Go to sleep, angelfish. It'll keep."

***

Bodie woke an hour or so later. He let Doyle sleep and went to check on the delivery of the parts they had ordered to replace what was beyond repair. They were missing only the new hydraulic pieces now, and Bodie extracted a fervent promise from the seller that the parts would arrive the next day.

He decided that was enough work to do before breakfast. He sat down with tea, toast, and the latest news on his handheld. He checked back a few days--there was nothing, of course, about an altercation in the empty space beyond the Angeline system.

Not long after, Doyle slipped into the galley wearing only a pair of jeans, with his hair still dripping into the towel that was draped over his shoulders. His wings still looked damp and heavy, but the feathers were straightened, a far cry from the disarray of the night before.

Bodie had meant to ask him something, but he spent a pleasant minute staring at him instead. He wondered whether the galley table would support them if he bent Doyle over it for another go, and regretfully concluded that it probably wouldn't.

Doyle turned around and caught him staring. "Morning," he said, not at all embarrassed.

"Morning." Bodie finally recalled what he'd meant to say. "Is there anything you want to do before we leave? Anyone you'd like to see? If we can't come back here, you'd better do it now."

Doyle paused in the act of sweetening his tea. "Actually, there is one thing."

"Anything you want."

"I'd like to visit Jamie. I mean, his memorial." Doyle fidgeted with the edge of the towel. "I never had a chance to, before--I was on the run the night he died. And after we leave here, I know I'll never have another chance."

Bodie nudged the empty chair out from the table. Doyle brought his cup of tea over and sat down. He swiped Bodie's handheld to check the news.

The tea was half-gone when he spoke again. "Would you come with me?"

Bodie chuckled. "Worried they'll go back on their deal, try to take you in again?"

"No. I'd just appreciate the company." He rubbed at the back of his neck, embarrassed.

Bodie tipped Doyle's face up with a fingertip and kissed him lightly, tasting the sweetened tea on his lips. "Yeah, of course I'll go with you."

"Tomorrow? I want to see about finishing work on the weapons bubble tonight."

"Tomorrow," Bodie agreed.

By evening the weapons bubble was airtight again, although the weapons themselves were only running at half-power. Doyle just said that they had better not get into a fight until they could fix it.

Bodie laughed, but he couldn't help wondering what Kell was going to do next. He slept uneasily, waking once at a half-remembered dream of pain and tearing wind. He settled down beside Doyle, and eventually he slept again.

The morning dawned bright and warm, good weather for a leisurely walk.

"Are you sure you're up to it?" Doyle had asked, frowning at him.

"That's funny," Bodie said. "I don't remember you worrying about whether I was 'up to' any of the other things we've been doing for the last few days."

Doyle flushed and said nothing more on the subject. Bodie made himself behave for at least a quarter-mile, but beyond that he couldn't keep quiet.

"What's the Angeline outlook on two men together?"

Doyle shrugged, a gesture that included his wings as well as his shoulders. "It's accepted. Not worth noticing, even."

"So we're not going to get hauled off to the Magistrates again for holding hands?"

Doyle's eyes were wide and innocent. "But, Bodie, we're _not_ holding hands."

Bodie grinned and reached out, curling his fingers around Doyle's. "How far is it to the grave?"

"Just outside the city," Doyle said. "Though it's not exactly what you'd call a _grave_."

"Angeline don't do burials? Let me guess, ashes scattered to the wind instead?"

Doyle gave him a surprised glance. "Yes, exactly."

Bodie snorted. "Even in death, you don't want to be Earthbound."

"I wish I'd never called you that," Doyle said with an exasperated sigh.

"I'm only joking. I understand it. Flight is important to you--burial would be the last thing most Angeline would want."

"So if something happened to me, you wouldn't--?"

Bodie's hand tightened on Doyle's. "Nothing's going to happen to you," he said sharply. "But no. I wouldn't do anything you didn't want, even then."

The field of memorials was visible from some distance, a broad stretch of tall grasses scattered with graceful structures of glass and stone. Up close, Bodie saw that there were no dates on the sculptures, only names, but he could tell by the weathered edges that some of the memorials were very old indeed.

He kept himself to the edge of the grounds, not wanting to insult the memorials with his Earthbound presence. All right, that wasn't fair. Doyle ought to be able to say his farewells in peace, that was all.

After a bit, Doyle walked back across the field to him. If his face was a little wet, Bodie didn't think it needed to be mentioned.

They walked back in quiet for a while, and when Doyle did speak his voice was steady. "Wish you could have known him. You would have got on with him, I think. And he'd have liked you, as long as you didn't bring up your smuggling exploits at the dinner table."

"Oh, I would never. That subject is much better suited for afters."

Doyle laughed. "Coffee, tea, and black-market 'beam guns. I'm sure that would go down a treat."

They reached the edge of the city again, and Bodie couldn't help but notice the way that the eyes of passers-by seemed to follow them as they walked. They made almost no effort to disguise it, either, turning and even rising a few feet into the air to get a better view as they passed.

"I am getting bloody tired," he muttered, "of being _stared at_ by everyone."

"Might as well get used to it, until we lift off."

Bodie frowned and looked over at Doyle. "You said it wasn't even worth noticing here, two people of the same sex."

"It isn't," he protested. "It's just, well. I suppose it's _you_."

"Me?" Bodie asked, indignant.

Doyle trailed his fingertips down Bodie's spine. "No wings. So you're either an Angeline criminal, or--"

"--an Earthbound," Bodie finished with a sigh. "Your lot are a bunch of feathery, holier-than-thou arseholes. They wouldn't suppose I was 'good enough' for an upstanding Angeline citizen like you, is that it?"

Doyle snorted. "I am not an upstanding Angeline citizen."

"Oh, I don't know. _Some_ parts of you seemed pretty...upstanding last night."

Doyle flushed crimson. "Stop that."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll have to drag you into an alley and have my way with you. And I'm fairly certain there _are_ laws against doing that sort of thing in public."

"I'll try to control myself until we're back to the ship," Bodie said, but his mind wandered as they walked back. All that attention--well, it was enough to make anyone wonder, a bit.

"Ray, does it bother you, at all, that I'm not Angeline?"

Doyle looked at him as though he'd gone mad. "_Bother_ me?"

"Well, you can't have grown up thinking 'Oh, one day I'll settle down with a nice Earthbound lad and live happily ever after.'"

"No, I didn't. I don't think I thought much about settling down at all. But if you're asking if I have complaints about the way things have turned out, then the answer's no."

They stepped inside the shaded berth, blinking as their eyes adjusted from the bright sunlight. Doyle took a few minutes to circle the Capri before they went inside, checking the new panels to make sure the seals had set. He was smiling when he followed Bodie into the ship.

"We should be ready to go in a day or two," Doyle said, pausing in front of the cabin they now shared.

"Yeah," Bodie said, frowning.

Doyle gave him a sidelong look. "I thought you'd be happy to get off a planet full of--what was it?--feathery, holier-than-thou arseholes."

"Oh, believe me, I won't be sorry to see the last of them. But as soon as we leave Angeline space, we lose sanctuary. And I highly doubt that Kell's satisfied with only partially destroying us."

Doyle nodded. "I had thought of that."

"Any ideas on how to avoid his notice?"

"One, but I don't think you'll go for it."

"Try me."

"Sell the Capri and buy something different."

Bodie flinched.

"I did say you wouldn't like it. I don't like it, either. But if it keeps us alive..."

"But it wouldn't--not for long. We'd be safe in the air, but the bounty file has our images attached. Sooner or later someone in a port will recognise us."

Doyle leaned against the door of the cabin. "Well, I'm out of ideas."

"All we have to do is find a way to make Kell remove the bounty, right?"

"You look like you have an idea," Doyle said, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Well, maybe."

"Are you going to share it?"

"I was thinking we could knock on the door and offer to explain ourselves." Bodie made a face. It sounded so much worse out loud.

Doyle stared. "You're completely mad. They'd pick us off before we got up the walk."

"No, that's our way in. Kell will be too curious as to how we managed to find the place--he'll at least give us a chance to tell him that. And then we can explain Jenny's unprovoked attack on us."

"We don't have any way to prove what happened, though."

"We might. I've got an audio recorder on the Capri, but I don't know if it will be enough to convince him."

Doyle balked. "You have an audio recorder?"

"Yeah."

"So when we were--last night--you have a recording of _that_?"

Bodie chuckled. "The recording wipes itself every forty-eight hours unless I save it to a different bit of memory. I pulled the hours when Kell was on-board and saved them, but I never went back to listen to them. I hadn't ever thought about pulling the recordings from our cabin, but now that you mention it..."

Doyle rolled his eyes. "Any time you need reminding, come and find me."

Bodie grinned decided that _now_ would be a good time to refresh his memory.

***

He waited until he was alone, much later, to play back the recording. The first hour of his absence was quiet, and he sped up the recording; the only time Bodie heard a voice was Doyle's quiet curse as he noticed the short in the sensor panel. Then the hiss of the lowering ramp, and the dull thud of impact when Doyle hit the ground.

The next few minutes were garbled, switching from microphone to microphone along the ship's main corridor. It cleared up once they reached the engine room, where Bodie had found Doyle.

_You are a pretty thing, aren't you?_ Jensen said. _No wonder he's kept you so long. Maybe I'll keep you myself for a little while; you can be Bound to me._

_Go to hell_, came Doyle's voice, followed by the heavy sound of a punch.

Bodie's hands curled into fists, and he wished Jensen were alive so he could have _his_ turn to kill the bastard.

"Forget it, Bodie," Doyle said from behind him. "I'm all right, and we took care of it."

Bodie thought of the empty, dazed look in Doyle's eyes when he had lowered the 'beam gun, and wondered if that sort of thing ever became 'all right' for an Angeline. "Yeah," he said quietly. "We took care of it."

Doyle bent over the chair to kiss the top of Bodie's head. "I'm done mucking about with the engines. We should be spaceworthy now."

"Should be?" Bodie teased.

"I promise. If we die in a fireball on lift-off, I'll be _very_ embarrassed."

"You and me both, angelfish." Bodie switched on the com and queued them for an early departure.

He did all the pre-flight checks. Twice. There was no reason to think that anything would go wrong, but he'd never fired the thrusters with more apprehension.

It wasn't quite the smoothest lift-off. A series of shudders and whines suggested that a great many parts of the ship could use a tune-up, but nothing exploded, so Bodie considered it a success.

Doyle looked annoyed when he unfastened the crash belt. "Bloody thrusters," he sighed.

"Anything I can help with?"

"No," Doyle said. "You just sit there and make sure there's no surprise party waiting for us at the other end of the jumps."

"I'll do what I can."

Doyle disappeared aft. Bodie could have done with some company; he didn't like the thought of spending the next eighteen hours waiting to arrive at a planet where they were probably going to get killed. But he'd only have been in the way, in the engine room, and the ship did need some more work. He made himself a cup of tea, left the kettle hot for Doyle, and settled into the pilot's chair to wait.

***

The landing on Charloss was a little better than the lift-off, enough that Bodie could ignore the fear of crashing in favour of the much larger fear that they weren't going to survive to lift off again.

It was late morning when they arrived. Rather than walk the ten miles to Kell's compound, they rented a skimmer and left it in an open field about three miles away.

Doyle powered down the skimmer.

"You could wait here, you know," Bodie offered.

"You should know me better than that."

"I do. I just wanted to give you the option."

"To hell with the option. Let's just go," Doyle said, sounding more confident than Bodie knew he felt. "The sooner we get there, the sooner we're back to the ship and off this rock." He climbed out of the skimmer. Bodie followed him, and after a pause to orient themselves, they started in the direction of the compound.

Since Doyle's sentence had been commuted, he had taken to wearing Angeline clothes that left his wings free, even in the narrow corridors of the Capri. Bodie found it incredibly distracting and enjoyed it entirely too much. Now, as they covered the last few miles, Doyle would rise into the air occasionally to make sure they were still on course through the pathless grasslands.

The third time he did it, Bodie kissed him when he came back down.

"What was that for?" Doyle asked.

_Because if Kell shoots us, I won't get another chance_. "Do I need a reason?"

Doyle smiled. "Never."

The compound seemed to loom suddenly up from the plains. Bodie was surprised at the size of it, but of course he had never seen the place, even at the distance that Doyle had.

There was a small post settled a hundred yards from the door, seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Bodie suspected that an electrified field surrounded the building; Doyle proved it by tossing a pebble into the clear air to the left of the post.

There was a flash, and the pebble bounced back to his feet, scorched.

From the lone post, there came a voice that demanded to know what they wanted.

"We're here to see Kell," Bodie said, just managing to keep his voice steady. "We have business to discuss."

After several moments in which Bodie expected every second to end in a 'beam blast, the flat voice replied, "Enter." Bodie knew that testing the electrified field again would be seen as a lack of trust in his host, so there was no choice but to step forward and hope it didn't kill him.

They passed through the field unharmed. If nothing else, it meant Kell had decided to kill them up-close, and that meant he might give them a chance to speak. At the door, a pair of guards arrived to check them for weapons and lead them down the corridors to the sitting room where Kell had received them the last time. It had evidently undergone a few changes in the past weeks.

Lounging in the chair that had belonged to Kell was Hida, the guard who had escorted them to and from the compound last time.

Bodie glanced around; the complement of guards seemed subtly different. "Where's Kell?"

Hida gave him an entirely false look of grief. "While we were attacking you, his ship developed a reactor leak. Very tragic, very sudden."

"Very final?" Bodie added, just a hint of dryness in his voice.

"Indeed," she said smugly.

Well, that was...news. It might be good; after all, it was Kell who had the grudge, and Hida didn't necessarily have any reason to want them dead. She had probably called off the attack as soon as Kell was dead, which had allowed the Capri to make a jump at last.

But she was also an unknown quality. She didn't have any reason to want them left _alive_, either, and now that they knew the location of her base, it might be easier to get rid of them than to let them walk away.

Bodie had gambled on Kell's curiosity. Hida didn't disappoint him.

"How did you find this place? I dropped you far enough out that you couldn't have found your way back."

Doyle spoke up, stretching his wings gently. "Aerial reconnaissance."

"Ah, yes. You hid your wings quite well, you know. None of us guessed it, not even Aris." Hida nodded at the Angeline woman.

She had another wing now, a light metal frame with a cloth covering stretched over it. It wasn't as graceful as her other wing, but it looked like it might allow for flight. Maybe it was a reward for helping Hida overthrow Kell. Doyle certainly seemed a bit more comfortable having noticed it, but they were both well aware that a crime lord could be magnanimous to her underlings and still quite happily shoot her guests where they stood.

But Hida seemed more thoughtful than vengeful. "Kell's bounty on you was worth twelve thousand. Fifteen, if you were taken alive. Did you really intend to come in here and _talk_ him out of killing the pair of you?"

"It seemed like a better idea than waiting to be shot in some dark pub," Bodie said. "And we have evidence that Jensen's death wasn't our fault. He came looking for us--to kill me and hand Doyle over for a bounty--"

"A bounty?" There was a bit too much interest in Hida's voice.

"It's since been cancelled," Bodie said coldly. "Jensen was killed in self-defence, and I have an audio chip to prove it."

She waved her hand. "I don't care about Jensen. He was Kell's crony, not mine. I'd have had to kill him to get to Kell anyway."

"So in essence, we did you a favour," Doyle said, seizing the opening. "And if you take back the bounty, you'd be saving twelve thousand--surely you can find a better way to use the money."

Hida smiled coolly. "You do like to push your luck, don't you?"

Doyle matched her smile and said nothing.

Hida looked from Bodie to Doyle, chuckled, and sat back. "Are you looking for work? I can always use people with more audacity than sense."

"On a freelance basis, maybe," Bodie hedged. "We'd rather not be...tied down."

"Well, not where other people can see," Doyle said innocently.

Bodie elbowed him, but Hida smiled again. The expression still made him nervous.

"You can go," Hida said. "If I want you for a job, I'll contact you."

"And the bounty?"

Hida glanced over at Aris, who looked up from her handheld and gave a curt nod. "Cancelled," Hida said, "effective immediately. You shouldn't have anything to worry about."

"Would you be insulted if I checked the lists?" Bodie asked.

"I'd be disappointed in you if you didn't."

Bodie checked his handheld and found the 'Cancelled' notice in bold letters over their bounty sheet. He nodded approval.

"I imagine you can show yourselves out," Hida said dryly.

"Yeah."

"Fair skies."

"You too," Doyle said.

Hida waved them off, and they were dismissed.

Despite her assurances of goodwill--which the cancelled bounty had gone a long way to cement--Bodie was glad when they left her compound behind. Back to the borrowed skimmer, then to the spaceport, and then...

Well, that was a question, wasn't it?

They didn't talk much while Doyle flew them back to the port. It was irrational to suppose that Doyle might leave, now that they had no common threat to bind them together, but he was relieved anyway when Doyle walked into the Capri with all the contentment of a man coming home.

Bodie sat down in the pilot's chair and took the first deep breath he'd had in a while. Free, the pair of them. No bounties, no pursuit, for the first time in months. And Doyle had stayed.

They lifted off in the light of setting suns, out into the star-strewn black of space. Bodie set them in a high orbit, considering all their possibilities. He glanced over at Doyle in the co-pilot's chair. "Where to?"

Doyle's fingers circled Bodie's wrist, and he tugged him gently back towards their cabin. "Who cares?"

 

_ **End** _


End file.
